The Warrior
by BristleFurr
Summary: -
1. Chapter 1

1.

Vol'jin stirred in the night. His body was relaxed, far more so than it had been in years, but his mind raced as he gazed down upon the woman next to him - a human woman. Her long red hair shone brightly in the moonlight, the ashen black of the sheared sides bristled in the cold. The soft curves of her hips met the firm slope of her legs tangled in a light blanket close beside him. Sturdy shoulders gave way to ample breasts and a pair of strong, capable arms that now clung gently to Vol'jin's chest as she slept. Though fit and built as she was, Armadda Fellwind was small. Shorter than any human he had encountered before or since. Though it was hardly worth fixating on, all humans were small in comparison to trolls, It never failed to amaze Vol'jin just how easily he would forget her demure stature after long interludes away from her. Loud. Flirty. Boisterous, effervescent, crass. These first impressions of her, the day they met, were not unfounded, for each and every word was relevant in a thousand different ways. He wouldn't know, couldn't know, the importance of the friend he would make in Armadda at that time.

The doors to the Warroom opened, a warm breeze flew wildly into the chamber, circling the Horde leaders standing therein. Papers flew from the table, pawns dropped from their places upon an old and worn map. Vol'jin was immediately irked. Orcs were not the most respectful of privacy, but he had at least come to know them to honor the wishes of their Warchief, Thrall. It soon became clear that what stood in the doorway wasn't an orc. Not by several extraneous long shots. Armadda's sleek boots clicked across the stone floor of the room, confidently bringing her to stand mere feet from the council. Vol'jin rose from his kneeling position and stood to his full height before her, not a challenge, not a threat, but a warning. _Come no closer._ The other Horde leaders bristled similarly at the sight of the human in their midst. Lor'themar Theron and Cairne Bloodhoof made a silent show of placing their hands upon their weapons in camaraderie with Vol'jin's aggressive lead, however Thrall raised a mighty hand to his friend's shoulder, staying Vol'jin as he grew more agitated.

"There were guards posted outside the door.", he spoke. Armadda's lips first curled into a small, humble smile, but soon spread to show the shining white teeth of her ego.

"There sure _were_ guards outside th' door!", she seemed to sing, her voice like a clarion bell ringing loudly in the hallow halls. Thrall moved his gaze beyond her, spying in the background a large orc body that had recently been re-purposed as a doorstop. He sighed heavily and made his way to stand between her and his subordinates. Vol'jin watched them, surprised. To him, this was a clear show of aggression. Though it was always wise to know an enemy before a fight begins, it was jarring to him that Thrall seemed to be taking the situation in his stride.

"How did you-?", he was cut off as Armadda raised a hand. The glint of a glowing red jewel set in a ring caught the eye of everyone in the room. "Th' 'how' is pretty impressive, but not quite as _important_ as th' 'why', I assure you, mate.". Thrall nodded.

"Then, you are Thornlock."

"Aye! A Pseudonym, to be sure. Call me Armadda Fellwind. I am at your service.", the human placed her small hand across her breast and bowed lightly. Vol'jin's eyes narrowed as the other Horde leaders exchanged quick glances with one another. The troll wasn't just his Warchief's lead strategist, not just another faction leader of the Horde, he was Thrall's brother. His confidant. Thrall seemed to recognize this tiny human despite the fact that she had never been mentioned to him before. Worse still, the orc appeared to have been _expecting_ her. A small, toxic sting of betrayal hit Vol'jin's heart, causing him a sick turning in his stomach.

"I must come clean.", Thrall cleared his throat. "I have been receiving messages by raven for some time now. Letters penned by an author called 'Thornlock' have been speaking of ill fortune for the Horde. As you might guess, I dismissed these claims off-hand at first, however, as time has gone by, and the state of the world grows ever darker, I find that more and more of the prophesied events have been occurring, and with increasing numbers. When I began to take a closer look at the letters I had been receiving I realized that there was someone far more informed than I was sending the Horde aid. I returned a raven and asked to meet Thornlock face to face." , Thrall turned to peer down at the small human who had silently crept up beside him, "I had never imagined you would be human.". Armadda placed a hand to one hip, it was armored in a golden clawed gauntlet, and she cocked her head to the side, sending her high-set ponytail trailing down her shoulder.

"No' a very good imagination on this one.", she smirked. A low growl came rumbling from across the table. Vol'jin had crouched back over, but his gaze had never left Armadda. He stared daggers at her as the gears in his head turned the situation over in his mind.

"Dis be very suspect.", he hissed, "I not be so easily swayed. 'Ow do we know ya not be da _cause_ of da troubles da Horde been experiancin'? 'Ow do we know dis not be a trap? Der be no reason for 'umans ta 'elp da Horde.". Cairne and Lor'thermar nodded and the latter spoke.

"Recently, we have been seeing less human activity off the shores of Kalimdor. If it were I leading Wrynn's army, I would consider this lul in action as the perfect opportunity to surprise the enemy. And you are _certainly_ a surprise."

"But no enemy.", Armadda assured. The redhead placed her hand upon the map, clawed finger indenting the stiff paper. " _Here_ is your enemy.". The entire counsel leaned in closer, eyes scanning the cartography for clarification. Vol'jin squinted.

"Der be not'in dere. It be wasteland and steep cliff.", he explained

"What _isn't_ wasteland here, Papa Troll?", the human smirked, earning her a rumbling growl. "There's a makeshift dock here. Th' Alliance been usein' it to stockade supplies. Iff'in y'all act soon, you can not only destroy th' base, but also snag some fine loot.". Vol'jin bared his teeth.

"Ya t'ink we _stupid_? Ya gunna run us right into a trap!", the troll snarled.

"Can it really be considered a trap if you're _expectin_ ' violence? I told ya, there's humans here. And there will be more the long'a we wait.". Armadda folded her arms across her chest, and Vol'jin saw an intense seriousness in her eyes as he hissed at her.

"There is an old mountain fort here.", Thrall interjected, pointing to an area just north of where Armadda had highlighted. "If there were humans docking on this shoreline, you would be able to see them from there.". He paused, thinking. "How many humans do you predict, Thornlock?"

"Armadda, please.", the little human reminded. "They're usin' scoutin' ships to dock inconspicuously. Can't hold more'n two dozen."

"If we run them out, will they return in greater force?", the orc questioned.

"No. They're only dockin' there because they think it's safe. If we show 'em it's not, they'll abandon their post there."

A hush fell over the warroom. Minds turned questions and plans over in their head. Vol'jin's anger resonated in his brain, making coherent thought almost impossible. His brow was boiling and his throat was tight. His face was crinkled in every way imaginable, he could not bare his tusks any harder if he tried. The Darkspear did not like what was coming. He knew Thrall. Once his mind was made up, he would assign orders and stick to them without question. This tiny wench already had their Warchief in her back pocket, and all it had taken was a few properly worded letters and the patience to wait him out. His thoughts were like the screeching of bats in his brain; _Who dis human t'ink she be!?_

"Vol'jin.", Thrall finally broke the silence.

" _Brother_.". It was almost a plea. In his heart the troll had actually said ' _Don't make me do this.'_

"Lead Armadda to the fort this night. Wait only until dawn. If the sun is risen and no humans have arrived, then you may rectify the situation in any way you see fit."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

It was colder than Vol'jin would have liked, here upon the stone battlement of a long-forgotten mountain outpost. The parapets were broken and shattered, it could no long be considered a wall, and the wind howled relentlessly through the rubble in the evening air. Dark clouds cast gloomy shadows through the decrepit palisade, scorch marks and dinged wood told of a battle fought long ago. Every moment that passed became another silent wish that he was in that battle, glaive in hand, rolling unsuspecting heads down the cliff side like skipping stones over water. He could see well in the dark, as all trolls could, but a constantly shifting fog rolled off the seaside far below them, and that clouded his vision in the most irritating way. His ears flicked absently, he could feel his muscles twitch each time he relaxed his face, which was nearly permanently sculpted into a snarl. But these things were trivial in comparison to the _real_ reason for his aggravation.

Armadda sat lazily upon a leveled belfry, it's metal long since pillaged and melted for scrap. She almost seemed to lounge there, completely unaffected by chill and malaise as she kicked her feet over the edge of the fort. Her confidence was a direct affront to his pride and it pained him that he could not harm her, simply for being annoying. Thrall's word was law in Orgrimmar, and Vol'jin trusted the orc with his life. He wasn't infallible, though, and the troll was certain that, this time, his Warchief was wrong. _No matter_ , he thought, _when da mornin' come and no blood 'as been spilled, I will take 'er back to Orgrimmar gutless, wit da red sun risin' at me back_.

For now, though, this situation was a test of his patience, and Vol'jin thought to ramp up the challenge if there was to be anything meaningful gained from this empty night. He squatted next to her, peering out into the haze. He took a quick glance at the human's weapon. It was a over-large red leather gauntlet, trimmed in gold. The spiked metal band across her knuckles was clearly for adding strength to a punch, and the long, dagger-like claws of the glove looked sharp enough to carve through stone.

"Bearclaw.", Armadda said. Vol'jin did not respond.

"This is Cubpaw.", she raised her other hand, it had the same metal band, but was simply a glove otherwise. Then, she turned her hand over, revealing the stone that had caught his eye at the counsel meeting earlier.

"And Solaris."

"Many weapons.", the troll sneered, "Da strength of a warrior be in der skill, not der kit.". Armadda nodded.

"Solaris is a magic ring, Chief. It turns energy into an... accurate reflection of one's soul. If a weak-willed trollop attempted to use it, they'd likely set themselves alight! Hah!", the woman cackled to herself.

"So, ya consider ya'self a strong-willed trollop?", Vol'jin turned his gaze to her, eyes narrowed, chin held high.

"That's up to th' stone to decide.". She flashed him a wild, knowing smile.

"Dat not answer me question.", Vol'jin hissed. He felt like he was being toyed with.

"You're right. I do believe I am quite strong."

"We be seein'". Armadda cackled again, making no attempt to keep her voice down or show restraint. After a long pause, Vol'jin began again.

"What ya be doin' 'ere? Why ya be 'elpin da Horde? If what ya say be true, many 'uman lives gonna be taken dis night". Armadda kicked her feet, seeming to think on her own for a moment.

"Well. I suppose it's just more fun this way.", she answered.

"Fun?!", Vol'jin leaned back in surprise. The woman nodded, and he seethed before her.

"Oh, ya want clarification, mate? Well, it's a story for sure. But I wouldn't wanna _bore_ ya.", Armadda sniggered. " Ya doin' a great job actin' a ghost to this place.".

Vol'jin bared his teeth, a low, fearsome growl crawling it's way out from behind sharp fangs. His face was boiling hot with anger. His fists were curled tightly into balls, nails dug into his own skin. He would make her regret teasing him so. She would learn proper respect for the Darkspear Chief. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, slowly relaxing his grip. Patience... Patience...

"There is a village...", Armadda began again, unprompted. "There _was_ a village near th' Westfall bord'a. S'gone now, replaced. But it used to be there, that's th' important part. A small group of young orcs, escaped slaves, starved and beaten, they found their way to th' steppe after fleein' their masters. They had no weapons. No armor. No food."

"And ya people, dey took 'em in?" Vol'jin asked, trying to get ahead of her.

"Nah.", she waved a hand."Ya think humans are afraid of orcs now, you ain't seen nothin'. But, that said, the village was know or it's dedication to Th' Light. Many young children dreamed of devoting themselves to the grossly paragon Paladin lifestyle. The Order Master in our village struck a deal with th' orcs, allowin' 'em to live outside the bord'a on a cliffside, not dissimilar to this one.". Armadda chucked a rock over the edge of the battlement. "They were promised that, should their old masters come callin', the village would protect their settlement, in exchange, the orcs would live secretly, peacefully with the surrounding humans. As you can imagine, they hated the idea."

"Unda'standable.", Vol'jin huffed.

"But they did it. Their leader met with our Order Master and, for a while, th' orcs kept quietly to themselves. After a few years, though, they reappeared on our bord'a. They were havin' a hard time makin' ends meet out in the doldrums, and they wished to work within th' village in exchange for food and goods. It must have been hard for them to come askin' for such a thing. If it were any other orc band, you would expect them to ransack the place and take what they wanted. But they put aside their pride, and faced their situation with honor, and th' village, respectin' their dignity, slowly allowed th' orcs into th' village proper. No' everyone was on board, mind. They met steady conflict. But, over time, it died down with little friction between the races. It was almost miraculous."

"Almost...", Vol'jin repeated after her, questioningly.

"... As I said, though the ethnic strain was minimal, it was still present. After some arbitrary length of time had passed, word had gotten to Stormwind that there were orc stowaways near Westfall. Without warnin', th' king's army came in droves and leveled th' town. They didn't just kill th' orcs. They brought 'justice' to any they believed were conspirin' againt th' Alliance."

There was a long pause. The chill of the night billowed through the two unlikely watchfolk, the shadows of clouds like moving patchwork across their skin.

"I love th' orcs.", she smiled,"I always have. Grew up with a few, me. Best friend was a half breed. Seriously misunderstood." Armadda paused a moment. She seemed to be gauging Vol'jin's reaction. He made no outward sign of disgust, but the initial idea of a half-human anything slightly turned his stomach.

"Halfers ain't usually born under happy circumstances it stands to be said. But my friend, he loved his orc heritage. He'd travel across the sea, learn Clan names and histories and trace star maps from th' old shamans." Armadda's voice picked up then, her head lifted to meet Vol'jin's gaze. "He'd come to my place and share everythin' he learned. Enthusiasm is infectious, mate, a kid scarcely has time to recognize their investment in somethin' before it consumes their life."

The troll winced then, as a memory come to him from his own childhood. He was reminded of Zalazane and the heinous misadventures they would have together, home, in the islands beyond Stranglethorn. The memory coalesced in his throat and weighed heavy there for a long moment. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be having in front of this human stranger. A moment of weakness he swore he would not allow her to bring out of him again.

Armadda, noting the awkward pause, continued, "I've never got along with many humans. I'm not a terribly big fan of the things we've done as a whole.", she sighed, "All races have their screw-ups. Their miscreants. Those who fall from grace like a fat duck on a frozen lake. But humans seem to blow it harder than other races. Humans don't just make life difficult for ourselves. We make it harder for everyone." Armadda turned her sight back to the void. "I don't want to be like that. I want to help the people I care about. I'm tired of watching th' Horde get th' raw end of the stick.".

"So, when 'umans come, kill ya friends 'n take ya 'ome, ya turn and do da same t'ing ta dem?". to Vol'jin, it almost sounded like a very troll thing to do. He was immediately intrigued.

"No' exactly. I don't _intentionally_ want humans to die. They are me people, after all. I will always be human. But I will do what it takes to make sure nothin' like what happened to me village happens anywhere else ever again, should I be able to stop it."

Once again, Vol'jin was reminded of Zalazane. The Echo Isles were overrun by his mindless slaves, hexed Darkspear trolls who neither lived, nor could they die. They were bid unto their master, the insane Witch Doctor. Long passed were the days that Vol'jin was hopeful to return his best friend to his right mind and clear his people of their spell. As he grew older and more experienced, he came to understand that, if they were ever to reclaim their new home at the edge of Durotar, they would be taking it by force. Troll versus troll. Husbands, wives, children, against their own families, their friends, their kind. It was not unlike the situation Armadda found herself in.

"You'll not ever trust a human, I'm sure.", the woman's eyes peered over at him, smirking. "But know that, as long as I am allowed to stay in Orgrimmar, I will watch over your people too."

"Da Horde be my people, Fellwind... _all_ of da Horde. I be findin' it difficult to unda'stand ya motives, but if Thrall be givin' ya 'is trust, den maybe..."

Just then, a loud, shrill sound broke on the evening breeze like a hammer coming to meet heated steel. Vol'jin tore his gaze from Armadda and stood to full height, peering out into the mist. There, beyond the perimeter of the old fort, were human soldiers docking in the night, just as woman had claimed. He refused to look back at her before clamoring down the stairs, he could already feel her prideful smile on his back.

It was easy to shadow the humans in the mist. Vol'jin could creep with the stealth and silence of a leopard and the torches they carried shown brightly in the dark. One by one, the troll slithered up behind an unsuspecting foe and silenced them - for good. It was almost too easy. ... ... It _was_ almost too easy. He realized he had rushed off without Armadda and she was nowhere in sight. If this _was_ some sort of trap, his hastiness may have gotten the better of him.

A sudden explosion ripped Vol'jin from his thoughts. Shouts of pain and surprise sounded from the soldiers and wooden planks, now relieved of the docking, flew wildly passed him, one managed to clonk him right in the temple. _Fog_. He grumbled, agitated, and headed in the direction of the blast. There, he found a stone cache, or what was left of it, blasted into infinity, and three dead humans, struck by the debris and ripped through like canon fire. The dust was settling on nothing but the dead, whatever caused this stockpile to explode had moved on. He could hear shouts in the distance, and so, Vol'jin took his leave of the rubble.

In the cool haze, the troll could feel a heat descending upon him. He had wandered out into the middle of the docking, if someone had high enough ground, he was surely in range of fire. Vol'jin's eyes darted around his field of view. Blazing arrows? Incoming incendiary ordinance? Neither seemed to be the case, but the swelter intensified around him. He considered jumping from the dock and taking cover in the water, but in this chill, Vol'jin would rather die by mortar fire.

"You're a real _knockout_.", came a voice. It trailed up his spine with prickles and pokes, like something had breathed hot embers under his skin. He stood, still and stiff, save for his head which he turned just enough to glance at who had caught him off guard. He gripped his glaive, ready to slash at a moments notice, a singular human soldier was no match for the Shadow Hunter. But as his eyes adjusted to the formation of the fog, his chest was awash with all manner of vehement feelings.

It was Armadda. She had found him through the mist, in the dark, _without_ his notice. He hissed at her, but did not turn to face her. She stood there, silently allowing him to calm down, steel blue eyes shining brightly in the dark, reflecting the light of the moon like a wolf. Though he growled as he finally came to face her, his jaw tightly fixed, his eyes wide and vexing, Vol'jin needed information from her, and she had clearly caught up to him to convey _something_.

"Ya caused da explosion earlier?", he whispered.

"Aye.", she answered, curtly.

"Ya always give away ya position like dis?"

"Nope. But I got good reason. As you would too, iffin' you'd've just _waited_.". Vol'jin snarled, but he did wait for her to explain. She grinned at him. Metalic footsteps on the wooden docks began to draw near, there wasn't much time left to chat.

"There are two more ordinance caches here. Somewhere. Th' humans can detonate them from a distance, like mines. Find them. Before they find _us_.". Armadda side-stepped and strode up the dock before Vol'jin. She lifted her unarmored hand into the air above her, the glowing stone on her ring intensified it's flare and a great, blazing fireball appeared in the woman's hand. In the brief moment between the magic being conjured and it's destructive impact upon the dock, Vol'jin could see the horrified faces of several armsmen as their emotions flickered between shock, fear, and anger. Then, as quickly as it had been materialized, the fire was consumed in an intense, rumbling crash, followed by the screams of torment and agony. The fog and the darkness settled back into the area, and both the soldiers and Armadda were gone, the only evidence they had been there being the little burning remnants upon the wood at Vol'jin's feet.

It would have been faster - and more satisfying - to simply kill the humans before they had time to detonate their charges. But Vol'jin agreed to himself it was certainly safer to take away the human's potential to seriously injure him. Vol'jin imagined to himself, as he stalked along the stone pier, a vision where he would forcefully pluck the claws and teeth from a vicious raptor, rendering it helpless before putting the beast out of it's pitiful misery. This is what he would do to these arrogant meddlers, those who dared to tread in the territory of the Horde. _His_ territory.

Vol'jin was determined to find the second charge before Fellwind. The snide woman had been leading him by the tusks all evening and it was time to show her he meant business. It wasn't enough to simply kill the humans. He wanted to play them at their own game. The troll could no longer hear the distant sound of footsteps on the dock, suggesting to him that, after the stunt Armadda had pulled, they were playing it safe on shore. As he slithered down the pier and onto the pebble beach, Vol'jin came across a small cove. In it, a group of razzled soldiers stood back-to-back, swords and bows at the ready, keeping watch at all sides. Above them, an archway of natural stone and an unusual rock formation. He made quick, silent work of climbing over the outcropping.

This was it, the second cache. There was enough dynamite to topple the stone archway and send it crumbling down upon any victims below. But this was what the humans had planned. A rock-slide wasn't accurate enough. Vol'jin cut the chord for the detonator, ensuring the men below could no longer control the timing of the blast, and wrapped the explosives in a cloth from his pack. Now, all he needed was a light. The troll never had need of torches, his dark vision took in enough light to see well even in caves, but there was a lit brazier in the cove. That was his mark.

The fire was situated on a stone pedestal a few feet above the beach. The closer he came, the more the humans began to notice something was off, until one spotted him and gave the alarm. Vol'jin did not bother sneaking up to them. He walked, straight and upright without fear. A few arrows whizzed passed him as he strode forward into the light, death shining in his eyes. They were too frightened to shoot straight. The Darksprear Chief came to a stop before the brazier. He snarled at them, wordlessly. Vol'jin wanted his victims to know his face before meeting their end. Slowly, he lifted the parcel up to the light, allowing everyone to understand exactly what the troll had in his hands. One by one, they realized, and some began to flee. A young teenage boy dropped his sword and tripped on his face as he tried to scurry off, and another tumbled over him. One human stood bravely at the forefront, sword shaking in his hands, eyes screwed shut. Vol'jin set the parcel aflame and tossed it into the cove before taking shelter behind the stone.

 _BOOM._

The dust settled, and the troll rose. The light from the fire cast an eerie, tusked shadow across the bodies of the fallen soldiers as he moved on. He barely had time to exit the cove before another explosion sounded. A tower of flame spiraled high into the night sky. Armadda had found the last cache. Vol'jin spat, then jogged in the direction of the pyre.

Embers had blown loose in the chilly sea breeze and floated into the surrounding vegitation, ignighting a few palm trees. The fire cast a bright light around the insuing mayhem. Though all charges had detonated, six humans remained alive. They stood in a semi-circle before an old shanty that had somehow survived the blast. Armadda was in the doorway, leaning casually against the splintery frame.

"We have you surrounded, traitor! Come peacfully, and we will give you fair trial!", a man shouted. His armor was slightly shinier than the others, and Vol'jin suspected this was their captain.

" _Horseshit_.", the woman cackled.

"You give us little choice! You will not survive this night!"

"I beg to argue.". Armadda pointed her chin beyond the group. Behind them, an imposing figure stalked out of the fog like a wild predator, fangs bared, claws at the ready. Vol'jin kicked the leader down on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He slashed to the left, taking a soldier in the belly with his glaive. Armadda sprang forward. She kicked high, foot connecting with the jaw of the man on the far right. The troll heard a sickening ' _crack_ ' as the infantryman was sent barreling down a flight of stairs, his journey ending face first in a slosh of dirty seawater. She wheeled around, bringing her clawed gauntlet into the kidney of the next man in line. He had raised his sword high above his head, intending to bring it down upon the woman in full force. Instead, it was dropped to the ground as the man doubled over in pain. Armadda punted him in the gut and he flew down below, joining his squadmate in the wash.

Vol'jin wasted no time clearing the remaining two guards. Their fear and inexperience made them soft, easy targets. Their blood sprayed vehemently across the stone, their screams pierced the night in a harrowing chorus of pain. The only one who remained was the captain. The troll stood before him, Armadda at his side. He snaked his clawed hand into the tangled mess upon the prone human's head and lifted him to eye level by his hair.

"Ya own people be turnin' against ya King.", Vol'jin snarled. "What ya be sayin' ta dat?". The soldier struggled, clawing at the troll's arm to no effect.

"Fuck... you.", he managed to wheeze before his neck was severed, and his body crumpled messily to the floor. The Darkspear turned to the little human and handed her the head of the captain. Vol'jin watched her carefully. He trailed her body for any hesitation, any tick or tell that she was unnerved. Finding nothing, he held her gaze in his, solid and sharp. Armadda willingly locked eyes with the troll as he loomed over her. The shine in her ring twinkled, and hot, burning embers began to form on the skin of the recently deceased man's face. Before long, his features burned away and his bone crumbled to ash, flowing through her fingers like a waterfall and flying into the wind about the two.

He didn't like her. He didn't trust her. But if Vol'jin could admit one thing to himself, it was that he knew that Armadda's heart was strong. Her eyes bore cinders in his soul as he glared at her, but there was no threat or challenge there. Soon, her egotistic smile returned to her face, eyes narrowing, and flat little teeth gleaming in the morning. The first rays of the sun began to peek over the horizon. They caught in her hair, bringing forth a smoldering red sheen as she turned from him and sauntered back to her place in the doorway of the old sea shack.

"Come, claim your prize.", she whispered over her shoulder. It was an obvious flirt. Too obvious to be real, but just serious enough to cause Vol'jin some discomfort. Still, he pushed passed her and rifled through the stash of supplies that had been stored in the building. Many preserved foods, some incredibly fresh, were tucked away beneath layers of ice. Meat, Cheeses, wine and other drink. These were not typical soldier rations. Though it pained him to think, Armadda may have been right about their intent to dock their army among these cliffs.

"We return to Orgrimmar.", Vol'jin commanded. "We report to da Warchief. 'E'll send an envoy to be cartin' dese rations back to da city."

"Sorry to disappoint you.", Armadda giggled. "I'm sure you were hopin' to do to me what you did to that offic'a.". Vol'jin grunted.

"Ya be watchin' ya'self, woman. If I begin suspectin' ya of foul play, it gunna be _your_ body dat go up in flames."


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Early morning dawned on Orgrimmar. Though the rays of the desert sun now lit most of the land, the Valley of Spirits was still veiled in shadow, protected vigilantly by the surrounding cliffs. Rushing water flowed over the falls and filled Vol'jin's ears with white noise. He often climbed here to relax and meditate to himself, however, on this occasion, no such thing was possible. His reverie had been broken when a little human body collapsed on the cliff side beside him. Armadda Fellwind sat there, kicking her feet over the edge of the bluff. The troll did his best to ignore her, closing his eyes and wishing the water to whisk his mind away, but the arrogance of the woman's presence was so _loud_.

After their victory on the mountain shore a week ago, Thrall had pardoned Armadda of all crimes other humans had committed against the Horde. She swore the blood oath before all members of the War Counsel. The orc leader's trust for her ran deeper than Vol'jin was comfortable with, and part of him hoped his Warchief was playing her game, waiting her out until the time to strike was at hand. Still, he kept her secret, allowing the woman free reign to come and go as she pleased as long as she stayed out of sight, at least until the orc could conceive of a gentle way to incorporate her into the Horde. No small feat.

And yet, here she was, sitting next to Vol'jin in the early morning light, ruining his morning simply by virtue of being _alive_. Fellwind did not speak to him, and if he hadn't known better, he would have guessed she was unaware of his presence upon the cliff. He was beginning to understand; she was incredibly patient, and she knew exactly how to force another to make the first move. There was only one option option to Vol'jin at this moment and that was to acknowledge her presence, either by speaking to her or being driven from the bluff in frustration. The troll was not about to surrender his position to a human.

" _Leave_.", he commanded.

"Nah.", came her response. Vol'jin opened his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"What'cha want from me?", he asked.

"I'm interested in you.". Vol'jin nearly choked. "I a'int never met a troll before, not really. And you know me now. Thrall can't hide me from you."

"I be wishin' 'e could.", the troll grunted. Armadda was unphased.

"I seen trolls, big green ones, some grey ones, but not ever blue ones."

"Ya be seein' Amani, Zandalari. We be Darkspear."

"Darkspear.", the word seemed almost foreign to Vol'jin after being spoken in Armadda's thick dialect. "Never heard of Darkspear trolls. Do you come from Kalimdor?"

"No." Vol'jin replied bluntly. Though he wished her to leave, it was clear she wanted to hear more. Armadda stared at him intently, eagerness growing on her face.

"Many, many years ago, Darkspear lived in Stranglethorn Vale. We always been a smaller tribe, but no less powerful dan odders. Our voodoo be strong and our Witch Doct'ahs cunnin'."

"Stranglethorn is in Azeroth. What drove you all the way out here? Don't tell me it was huma...". She was cut off before she could finish teasing.

" _No_. Da only race able ta push around da trolls be _odder_ trolls.", Vol'jin growled. "Before me birt', da Darkspear be driven from our 'ome in da Vale by odder troll tribes. We stayed on da Islands skirtin' da continent, and we been 'appy dere."

"That's where you were born?", Armadda asked.

"Aye. It be da place I grew into an adult. Da place me faddah died protectin'. Da place I became a Shadow 'Untah, and de leadah of de Darkspear tribe."

"That's cool!", Armadda beamed. The troll turned to glare at her.

"I became leadah because me faddah was _murdered_."

"Oh-"

"Da Sea Witch. She be wantin' sacrifices from 'er murloc followers. In da chaos of da war between 'uman and orc, she capt'cha me faddah..." Vol'jin had already said far too much, but the anger and sadness he had be repressing was clawing at his heart and the words fell out of his mouth uncontrollably. He gritted his teeth. "Thrall 'elp me people, 'e gave us a new 'ome. Da orcs welcome us into dere Horde wit' little conflict. Da Warchief be me brott'a. Me _brott'a_... " A weighty growl grew in troll's chest, increasing intensity. " _Zalazane_... He drove me people from our new 'ome on de Echo Isles. We scramble on dis shore clawin' toot' and nail, scrapin' everyt'in' we can from da dirt and da clay while he sit in me villiage, tormentin' me people..."

Vol'jin's fist came down hard upon the sandstone, threatening to break apart the bluff they sat upon. No one had asked Vol'jin of his troubles in quite a while, and, truthfully, Armadda hadn't even really questioned in the particular. Thrall was the last to speak with the troll about the fate of his tribe, and this was _not_ how one acted in the presence of the Warchief. A river of emotions cascaded from the Darkspear's heart as he bellowed a frustrated roar. He was angry, that was sure, but also deeply upset. More than anything, Vol'jin was embarrassed. This temper tantrum was uncalled for, but he could not stop it. He did not wish to face Armadda. He didn't want to see her grotesquely smug little face. He continued ranting to stave off the inevitable.

"We not be desert trolls. We not eat... cactus, scorpion, boar _shit_ , whatever dey eat out dere. Da Horde provide us rations, but we _must_ survive on our own. We not 'avin supplies we been needin'; Ingredients for voodoo or jungle wood for mask-makin' or bow-craftin'. Me people remain steadfast, but dey need a prop'a 'ome.".

"You're tired.", the woman broke his fit. Vol'jin's ears pricked up and he turned to face her. Armadda's face was soft, brows arched and teeth hidden behind her lips. She was a stranger. These were not her problems, and yet she had remained silent and allowed Vol'jin to vent his frustration. She yielded to his anger without hesitation or fright. She did not become angry, she did not chide him. She had simply listened, until now.

"Your people been movin' non-stop. You've not had a moment's rest. You need a break."

"I _was_ takin' a break, till ya imposed ya'self-"

"No.", she interjected. "I mean a break _through_.". The troll retracted slightly, removing her from his gaze.

"I... we be plannin' somet'in. Soon. It... be takin' time.". There was a pause, and Vol'jin shifted uncomfortably.

"Not everythin' can be solved with patience, Vol'jin.", Armadda finally said. "...But I'm sure you'll know when it's time to take action, you seem a pretty bright man."

Patience and Action. It was most of what the troll knew about Armadda. She had waited out Thrall as he slowly came to trust her prophetic text, and she had come to them, in person, seemingly at the perfect opportunity. If she had been fearful, she did not show it. If there were any doubts in her mind, she had not spoken them. Her walls were high and Vol'jin could not see beyond them. But he could tell she was smarter than to throw her life away to chance and fate. She must have known when the time was right to join the Horde.

"'Ow did you know?", the question came almost unbidden. Though he was curious, the Darkspear chief was becoming increasingly worn on the conversation. She looked at him quizzically. "When did ya decide to come fort' and attempt ta join da Horde?". The woman kicked her feet absently. She turned her sight on the Valley and steeped her mind in thought. Eventually an answer came.

"Dunno. I reckon sometime after receivin' a letter back from Thrall. The reality of the situation kind of hit me then. The plan was movin' forward at someone else's behest. I guess that's when me actions became necessity, instead of just some pipe dream wish. It pushed me into motion.". Vol'jin ruminated on this. _Someone else be pushin' 'er forward,_ he thought _, an outside force demandin' progress, requirin' victory or seein' to her deat'._

"Ya be very trustin'." he sighed, his weariness growing further.

"Ya'll won't ever trust me if I don't trust you first. But... I know. I could have very well died in that war room had I misjudged you folks .", slowly, Armadda's smile crawled back over her face and her eyes seemed to sparkle as the rays of the desert sun finally made their way over the cliff side, pouring light into the Valley. "But I knew from day one that the Horde isn't evil. I told you, I grew up with orcs. Escaped prisoners, beaten and broken, but orcs nonetheless. The Horde isn't made of monsters, it's made of people. A collection of souls all requirin' and offerin' help to one another, no different than how any other community operates. Ya'll just do it with blade and fist instead of six hours of yelling political tripe across a disinterested marble table.". Armadda blew a raspberry. "Yellin' isn't action, yellin' is a crutch cowards use to stall.". Vol'jin nodded. That was probably the first coherent thing he'd heard her say all morning.

"Ya got some air o' mojo about ya.", the Troll admitted. "Ya not be like oddah 'umans."

"Have ya _met_ any other humans?", she asked.

"Da ones what tried ta kill me on da beach?", Vol'jin huffed.

"That's fair!", Armadda cackled. Vol'jin chuckled. He did not wish to, and when he saw the pleased look on the woman's face he quickly, forcefully silenced himself.

"You're _alright_ , Vol'jin Darkspear.", she winked at him. The troll felt a heat between his eyes as his face flushed. It was foreign and uncomfortable - time to leave. He stood, but the little human stayed seated.

"Ya give me much ta t'ink about, when I already be 'avin' much ta t'ink already. I go now to me mornin' duties.", he said, hesitating with his next few words. "Spirits... be wit'cha.". Armadda waved lazily in his direction, allowing him to exit as comfortably as possible.

"Take care, my friend."


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Vol'jin ran his hand through the bottom of a trench. Light, dry silt flew out from between the cracked arid earth and he sighed. Looking up, he could see water trickling down from on high, sparse and strained. What little did not evaporate in the sweltering desert air seeped into the ground, leaving nothing but a dark wet patch where, once, a great pool had been. A growing crowd mumbled around the troll, drawn to the spectacle of the failing waterfall. It was not long before Thrall arrived at the scene.

Orgrimmar had weathered drought before. In the past, allies, both Tauren and Blood Elf, would ferry fresh water either by sea in great ships or by high mountain road. However, the shoreline was awash with human warships, and Cairne Bloodhoof was away from the capital. It would take some time to get word to Thunder Bluff, and even greater time to receive aid. Even at it's most pitiful, the falls in the Valley of Spirits nearly always held a little water for rationing, but this time, there was none. This situation was far more dire than had been faced before. Something needed to be done - _now_. Vol'jin came to stand beside his Warchief.

"Bad mojo.", he sighed. "Dis be worse, even den last year.". Behind them, Garrosh Hellscream and Lor'themar Theron had arrived.

"This is troubling indeed.", the Lord Regent spoke, "My ships have been on lock-down since the activity on the shore has increased. I could send out a party, but It would be unlikely that they would return.". Thrall nodded.

"A fortnight, _at least_ , it will take for adequate supply to arrive from Thunder Bluff.", the orc turned, and looked over the faces of the concerned Horde races that were still gathering behind them. "We must plan for the mean time."

"What will you have us do?", Hellscream asked. A long hush fell over the group. Vol'jin could feel the tension mounting, the heat of the mid-day sun burning uncertainty and dread into their hearts, but it was eventually cut through.

"I've got a suggestion!", a little female voice rang out. They raised their heads, and upon a sandstone ledge, Armadda Fellwind sat perched, lounging against a stone, a wide grin upon her face. Voices immediately erupted from the crowd, Orcs and trolls discussing their confusion and surprise within their native tongue, others staring unblinkingly as the little human slid down the cliff to meet the leaders in the basin.

"Armadda?", Thrall did not appear pleased to see her in the open, his face crinkled up in frustration, but he did not send her away. Garrosh bolted forward.

"Who..!?". The Warchief raised his arm to impede the orc's movement. He waited, gruffly, but patiently for her to continue.

"I got folks between here an' Thund'a Bluff. It'll take me three days to ride out, gath'a supplies, and bring them back. Four if we wait much long'a. It won't be nearly enough, but iffin' ya ration, we'll survive.". Thrall turned his gaze on the dried up falls. A single drop took leave from the height, catching the rays of the sun as it fell, like a crystal refracting a rainbow. It landed unceremoniously upon Armadda's face and she brushed it off, annoyed. Even four days was too long.

"Your allies are...?", he began to ask.

"Human, mostly.", she finished for him. Vol'jin was not aware of any Horde-friendly humans on Kalimdor. The Tauren kept unusual friends at times, but even they would not hide humans in secret.

"This is ridiculous! We can't trust _her_!", Garrosh growled furiously. "We can't let humans so willingly into Orgrimmar! This is the perfect opportunity to attack!". The young orc was growing more agitated by the second. Thrall had listened to his words, weighing them heavily in his mind. Vol'jin could tell, the Warchief always closed his eyes when he was lost in thought. He turned to the troll then, and regarded him sternly.

"What say you, Vol'jin?", he asked. The Darkspear pinned his ears back. He looked upon Armadda fiercely, and she held his gaze without falter. The reality of the situation did appear _highly_ suspect. The little blast monk had been living in the city for no longer than six months. She had easily wormed her way in by playing her cards right, and now, upon the solid foundation of her own confidence, she wished to grant access to even _more_ strangers. In any other situation, Vol'jin would have lobbied to cut the human down where she stood, drought or no, however the troll could not convince himself to stand against her. Armadda had been transparent with him, and likely as well, with Thrall, since her arrival in Orgrimmar. She could be sarcastic and he had noticed a particular talent she had for not telling the _whole_ truth. But he had come to know her as a person who would never lie, even if the truth was not what one wished to hear. He sucked in a breath and straightened his back, regretting what he would say next.

"Warchief... I be trustin' Fellwind.".

"Good." Thrall's expression softened then, almost to a smile, but it quickly returned to it's prior state when he turned to Hellscream.

"Garrosh. You will accompany Armadda as a representative of the Horde.", the orc in question opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off. "You will leave immediately. There is no time to lose. The fate of our people is in your hands.". The boy gritted his teeth and bared his tusks, then he heaved a violent huff and turned to leave.

"Come, woman!" , Garrosh yelled from over his shoulder as he made for the border. He crashed into the crowd that had gathered and broke them apart like the world's angriest figurehead parting through the ocean. Armadda sauntered calmly behind, winking at Vol'jin as she passed. His eyes narrowed, and he raised a brow. _Mebbey she mean 't'ank you_ '.

Nearly three days had come and gone since Garrosh and Armadda had left the city. The sun was descending over the mountain border, casting Orgrimmar in an uncertain shadow. Vol'jin found himself standing upon the great gate these last two evenings, anxious to see his allies return. The troll was not particularly fond of the young Hellscream boy. He was over-impulsive and quick to anger, and Armadda did not hold back. Any number of things between them could cause the orc to lose control of himself and murder the little human. On this night, Thrall appeared on the gate to join his friend. He was armor-less, wearing light, folded clothing, and appeared relaxed.

"My brott'a.", Vol'jin greeted him with a bow of his head, lowering his tusks in reverence. The Warchief came to a stop beside him, arms folded behind his back. He did not face the troll, but he appeared to be smiling.

"Worried?", he asked. Vol'jin recoiled a bit, sneering.

"Pah!", The Darkspear spat, dismissing the accusation, but the question still hung over the two, like a thick, scratchy blanket. He was _not_ worried about the woman. Vol'jin squatted down, sulking a bit. Thrall chuckled.

"Rest easy, friend. They come.". The orc raised his arm, pointing just over the farthest dunes on the horizon. When Vol'jin returned to his full height, he could see the envoy heading up the crossroads en route to the city. Vol'jin's eyes strained as he scanned the far off figures. He spotted Garrosh Hellscream easily, his massive body blocked out the waning light from the setting sun behind him. Carts full with stacked casks and barrels followed closely behind him, and atop one very large Woolly Rhino, Fellwind guarded the rear. Both leaders climbed down the stairs and raised the iron portcullis, opening the gate for the caravan.

It wasn't until the troop was safely inside the city walls that Vol'jin had noticed what a strange bunch they were. Beyond Fellwind, there were four human drivers, two male and two female. They each openly carried a rifle on them. A lady dwarf held a precarious stack of barrels level. She kept an axe upon her back that was nearly as large as she. A pair of guards stood between the carts, one a Tauren shaman, the other a very short, green-skinned orc, the latter of whom had a gnarly trail of scars across his right side. Many appeared weathered, like they had seen their share of battle, but none showed any fearfulness as they entered under the gate. Vol'jin came to stand next to Armadda as she tumbled off her steed.

"Dis be your mount? Somet'ing about it seems... perfectly you.", the troll remarked. Armadda patted the Rhino's thick neck. It's hair, though dirty from it's trek across the desert, looked freshly combed and not a single tangle could be clealry seen. Upon his crown a silver cap kept it's primary horn from damage and matching silver covers kept his toes from harm. The saddle was a deep black leather, with a simple red woven blanket underneath.

"His name is Bur-Hok and he is my baby boy.". Armadda grinned. She clearly enjoyed caring for the animal, however big and ugly he may be.

It crossed Vol'jin's mind, as he scanned the others, that much of what was layed before him was very telling of the individual's intent. Thrall had come to the gate without anything to defend himself with. He showed the party his trust in them, even as they came so laden with weaponry. In turn, all who wielded weapons in the caravan did so in an obvious manner. They did not attempt to hide their might from the Warchief. Vol'jin could not help but feel slightly impressed by their conviction. He felt in this moment the odd troll out; he had glaive in hand, an instinctual habit when anxious. He donned his pauldrons and other battlewear. No one seemed to pay him much mind, though it silently stuck a bit of needle in Vol'jin's brain.

"I present you, The Orphans.", Armadda announced. "We come bearin' you a gift of faith."

"Lok'tar! Welcome.", Thrall greeted. "We greatly appreciate your donation. You may not trust orc kind, but I assure you, as Warchief of the Horde, we shall return your favor ten-fold, in time."

"Orphans?", Vol'jin interjected, curious.

"These are me kinfolk." Armadda anwered, holding her head high. "Human refugees from me hometown. Other folks what helped prison'as and vigilantes , cast out and hunted by their very people. We call ourselves 'The Orphans'. We have no place in Azeroth, nor, truly, anywhere safe in the Eastern Kingdoms. So, we came out to Kalimdor, and have been patchin' together a livin' in the barrens. Sound familiar, aye?"

" _Aye_.". Thrall and Vol'jin both agreed.

"These others are friends.", the woman gestured to the guardsmen. "Those who themselves have been cast from their clans, or parted voluntarily, and have taken comfortable residence with us."

Garrosh Hellscream almost seemed to vibrate in his place within the saddle upon his warg. He had been _deathly_ silent the entire time. He held his sight far away from the party, his hands gripping the wolf's reigns tightly. Sensing his tension, Thrall gestured for him to dismount. He did so, and stood before his Warchief.

"Garrosh, you have done well to escort our allies safely along the crossroads.", he said, placing a massive, stabilizing hand upon his subordinate's shoulder. "Help them disassemble and cart their wares into safe keeping, then you may take your rest.". Wordlessly, Garrosh quickly went to work. He seemed eager to get this whole ordeal over with as quick as possible. His teeth remained steadily shut, the creases of his face all wrinkled together clearly revealing his internal fury. Vol'jin wondered what kind of voyage he must have had with the humans, and if the troll himself would have returned in any less of a state. Still, he was keeping himself together, and that was admirable to the Darkspear. Once all had been removed from the carts, the humans made to leave the very way they had come.

"Stay in our city overnight." Thrall offered. Armadda shook her head.

"No. You have pushed your people much this week, mate. We are happy to part with your thanks."

" _Thank you_.", Thrall bowed his head lightly to the party.

"Don't worry." Armadda winked. "We're no pushovers. We're wanted criminals, mind. We're good at flying by night.". She turned her attention to the troll, then.

"I'll be back.", she said. Vol'jin hesitated. The woman had done the Horde a great kindness, one he was sure they would not have done for _her_ , otherwise. These outsiders had come to their aid quickly and without fear. Though he did not like them, the chief could not let them leave without returning them something. That was not honorable.

"I be goin' wit'cha.", he demanded. "Last time ya 'ad Hellscream for protection. Dis time it be me. We return toget'ah.". Armadda and Thrall both grinned widely and Vol'jin quickly removed himself from their eyes, making to ready his raptor for the journey ahead, internally kicking himself the whole time.

To Vol'jin's ease, the trip passed uneventfully. Armadda spoke much with the villagers, who kept her mostly occupied. She did insist on keeping night watch with him, though. She regaled the troll with stories of various townsfolk, all of whom had their own personal reasons for departing the Alliance. And as he entered the town on the second day, he was shocked to see just how many there were. A crowd of Tauren lived here, keeping steady watch over them. Most others were humans, peppered by a few dwarves and Vol'jin spied a Night Watchman who was clearly half-orc. When the two left town they agreed to ride back through day and night, with only one stop along the way. It was midnight by the time they came to their checkpoint. Vol'jin had fixated on the watchman he had seen upon leaving and, before he took his turn to rest, the troll asked the woman about him.

"Da half-orc at the watch when we left, dat be ya friend? From ya villiage in Westfall?"

"Oh - you remembered!". Armadda beamed so hard she was almost more luminous than the fire pit between them. Vol'jin's ears folded down and he looked away, scratching at his chin. He attempted some stammering excuse, but he realized there was no convincing her that he hadn't been listening to the words she had spoken to him. The fact they had any register in his mind at all was surprising to the troll himself. The woman shook her head. Though she continued to smile, her voice became much softer.

"Nah. That's me friend, Kar'nak. And ya met Zol'thar from the caravan. They're both half-orc, as you've correctly spotted, but Perri, me childhood friend, is dead.". There was silence. Armadda had failed to mention that on her first recount of her past, and now Vol'jin felt ashamed and embarrassed. Two completely foreign emotions the troll chief was not keen on expressing around her.

"They took him with many others to the capital, where they beheaded them for treason."

"I... be sorry.", Vol'jin winced.

"Don't be. We've all lost folks. I- I'm sorry about your fath'a, I didn't say that before. I meant to but...". She was the one stammering now, a sudden break in her rigidly impenetrable walls. Vol'jin realized they were now in the middle of a heart-to-heart and it pained him to think on. He did not wish to become friends with this human. He was still steadily against her presence in the Horde and could only imagine the erruption of abuse she was about to face from these people she had helped. It made him very uncomfortable, and sleep did not come easy to Vol'jin that night.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

When Armadda had suggested the two of them engage in a friendly sparring match, Vol'jin just about scoffed in her face. It was still difficult to tell when the tiny human was being serious, but as he went about his day, the troll found his mind would often wander absently without him, thinking of ways he might have trouble fighting her. Armadda might be the smallest sentient thing he would ever fight in his adult life. He had seen her duck and twist and jump effortlessly around the battle field, limbs flying with the vigor of lightning and the strength of thunder. Her speed and her limberness gave her the opportunity to improvise and perform power moves that won battles. Even in simple hand-to-hand combat, if Vol'jin couldn't catch her, he likely couldn't beat her. She'd widdle him down until one or both of them fainted in exhaustion. He didn't like that thought one bit.

Vol'jin tapped his jaw, irritated, as he hunched over a writing mat with long forgotten writings scrawled upon it. He had reach on her. If he could maneuver in a way that he could grapple her backward, or, if he could pretend to be slow and then spring on her back, he could use his weight to pin her to the ground and she would have nowhere to go. All he had to do was bait her close and reach her.

It was becoming clear, as Vol'jin stood opposite the woman, that his plan was easier said than done. Armadda had purposely left any heavy armor behind and was wearing only her dark underclothes. No extra weight held Fellwind down and she bobbed and weaved out of Vol'jin's grasp, smirking to herself. Her gauntlets were not equip and her knuckles were bare, but the troll knew better than to believe all her power came from her kit. Soon she would go on the offensive and that would be the time to strike. _Take a few hits, catch an arm, pull 'er down_.

Siddle... siddle... kick! _No, not yet._

Weave... slide, punch, punch! _Still not yet._

And then it came, the moment Vol'jin knew he had to strike. A mean right hook was meant for his jawline. He saw the predatory gaze in his opponent, confidence in the strike. He advanced into the blow, prepared to grab her wrist in his nimble hand... but he missed! Armadda sneered coyly as she withdrew her arm just short of a would-be sucker punch. She simply needed to stand ready as her opponent did the work for her, sending her head barreling into his ribcage on the advance. The surprise of the maneuver caused the troll to pause more than the pain did and it was just long enough for Armadda to tuck and roll away, once again out of reach.

It had only just occurred to Vol'jin that this was exactly what Armadda wanted from the start. She wanted him to toil over a strategy only to have his plans shatter at the start of battle. She _knew_ he would reject her proposal immediately, but change his mind once he believed victory was assured. The little fighter wanted to see how the massive troll would improvise. She was trying to learn more about him, how he fights, by using her own body as collateral. In a way it was admirable. Vol'jin enjoyed the occasional script that would detail a technique or method for battle and combat, but a scroll or a book could never hold a candle to real experience. However it was all too clear that Armadda was having _far_ too much fun manipulating him as she shuffled her feet, keeping on her toes and smirking at him.

"You ready, mate?", she asked. The tone of her voice suggested she was not done teasing him. Vol'jin righted himself, standing at full height and towering over her, even at a distance.

"Aye... ", he positioned himself so that his body reflected hers; an almost monk-like stance, chest and mid-section facing away, leading with the shoulder and fist on the dominant side, making his body as small of a target as possible and leaving plenty of opportunity to move abruptly. Armadda's eyebrows raised as she watched her partner do this. She swung her off-leg around and began to circle to Vol'jin's left, but the troll mirrored the movement, taking the same action with his off-side leg and circled to the right, keeping the distance between them. The woman smiled, lower eyelids raising as her teeth flashed wildly, and Vol'jin recognized this expression in his new friend - she was excited and she was cocky. He was going to play her at her own game and she was _thrilled_.

Anyone walking into the arena at this time would have been awe-struck to see the two combatants come to blows. Though Vol'jin's primary combat style focused heavily on his ability to swing his glaive or cast shadow spells, he was no stranger to hand-to-hand and fist-fighting. He was a fast learner and Armadda was a good teacher. She was no longer pulling her punches and each mistake he made became a new bruise for her opponent. Each time Vol'jin believed he would match the woman's speed, she would double it. Each moment he felt he was on top of her, she would kick-flip just out of reach. So tantalizingly close, but it was just not enough. It was easy for Vol'jin to feel frustrated. He meant to turn the tide of this fight, but Armadda was ready at every turn. Though he had landed a few heavy blows, this was _her_ combat technique and she was queen here.

Then, Vol'jin saw an opportunity. Agile as she was, Armadda had spent the better part of the fight fleeing his advances, dancing around him and teasing. Her breathing was becoming heavier and she was beginning to tire - at least, that's what Vol'jin believed she wanted him to _think_. The troll had very little time to act, it was now or never, and he couldn't second guess a single action. Rather than maintain his mirror act, Vol'jin outstretched his arm suddenly and caught Fellwind off guard. Without a moments hesitation he switched back to his original plan to overpower the human and pin her down. He caught her arm as she tried to dash away. _Finally_ he had her. The troll made quick work of pulling the small body across his own, his chest to her back, his hands firmly grasping both tiny forearms and he leaned, pressing his weight on her.

Armadda's smile quickly vanished, but she was not down yet. If there was anything to be said about her stature it was that she was one sturdy, solid lady. She struggled under the imposing weight of her opponent, widening her stance as best she could, trying desperately to maintain control, even now. Vol'jin could feel her struggle, her legs shook and her back creaked from underneath him. Her breathing became audibly labored. He allowed himself a prideful smirk.

"Give up, now. I be winnin' dis fight.", Armadda coughed beneath him.

"Vol'jin, mate, have you learned nothin'?" she wheezed. Suddenly the woman broke her opponent's grip on her right forearm at the thumb. She wheeled back and sent an elbow straight into the troll's kidney. Winded and surprised at the sudden, sharp pain, Vol'jin's body was sent to the floor. He writhed there for only a moment before finding his feet.

"Ya fight dirty, 'uman." he breathed, but a grin crawled across his tusks. She was always a step ahead, luring him into a situation where she could land a heavy hit on him, but after that stunt Armadda was truly tired. He could see her body shaking from fatigue. She smiled back at him, and chuckled weakly. The troll had just caught his second wind.

There was no time to lose. After a short volley of feint attacks Vol'jin once again caught his mark and made his attempt to flatten his friend. This time, however, he would not underestimate Armadda. He would end this fight _now_. Once the humans' forearms were again in his grasp the Darkspear put his tusks to use. He carefully slid the points around her neck, locking Armadda's head in place. Vol'jin opened his mouth and bit down - _hard_ \- on the woman's shoulder, sending a piercing pain through her body and bringing her to her knees.

The sound that escaped Armadda's throat was not the one Vol'jin was expecting. A hot, erotic moan echoed in the arena chamber. And then there was silence. The trolls fangs were still lodged in her shoulder muscle, he could taste the stream of sticky blood that was now beginning to trickle out. His breathing was hard and heavy on Armadda's neck and behind her ears. Vol'jin suddenly became very warm. He slowly removed his teeth from the woman's flesh, she seemed to be failing to remain silent. Once his tusks were safely lifted, the troll backed away quickly, allowing his victim to rise.

Armadda stood and silently made for the arena door. Before leaving, she turned to face Vol'jin. She smirked, smeared a bit of her blood off on a thumb and made a show of licking it clean.

"Ya fight _dirty_ , troll."

Vol'jin stood in the doorway for an indeterminable amount of time.

.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The last few rays of sun trickled over the dunes of Durotar as the twilight hour slowly fell upon Sen'jin Village. Vol'jin sat perched upon his hut, gazing pensively out to sea as his people went about their evening chores and readied for nightfall. The breeze was especially cool this night, much-needed rain had fallen mid-afternoon and the air was now heavy with moisture. Minuscule droplets of water clung to his fur and the Darkspear Chief allowed the soothing draft to take his mind away.

Across the sea, far out of sight, stood a sturdy hut on an island. Outside the door, a totem was erected with a voodoo fetish nailed to it. It was a sigil made of wood from the trees of First Home, stained red with the blood of countless enemies. It was his father, Sen'jin's emblem, and Vol'jin was dreaming of home. The humidity in the air reminded him of the heat of the jungle of Stranglethorn, a hunt through thick brush and twisting vines raced through the trolls' mind. He leapt and soared through the foliage, swift and agile, never losing sight of his mark. Equipped with a fine bow, Vol'jin nocked an arrow, silent as death itself. The creature before him turned slowly to face their assailant, it moved to stand illuminated in a small patch of sunlight trickling through the canopy. Vol'jin immediately recognized the being and lowered his weapon.

"Zal...?", he blinked and, in an instant, the visage of his childhood friend, Zalazane, was standing mere inches from him, his Witch Doctor mask concealing the features of his face. He grabbed hold of Vol'jin's bow, griping it firmly. A low rumble filled the space between the two trolls as the world began to fade to darkness. Zalazane began to chuckle as his grasp on Vol'jin's bow tightened, the supple wood beggining to splinter.

"Zal... why...?". Zalazane's chuckle grew to raucous, maniacal laughter as Vol'jin's bow broke in two with a sickening crack, like that of bone and branch, his vision dispersing like exploding shrapnel. The Darkspear's mind was now back in Sen'jin Village, the darkness of night approaching fast. He sighed heavily.

A flurry of activity caught the chief's eye as a cloud of dust rose in the distance. An envoy from Orgrimmar seemed to be heading into the village, the western rays of the waning sun backlit the figures and veiled their identity in shadow. Vol'jin felt a momentary twang of uneasiness, but as he leapt from the roof of his hut and strode to meet the traveler, he dismissed the foolish paranoia and smiled.

Armadda Fellwind rode upon a woolly White Rhino. It whined and protested as it's driver pressed him further into the village. It was strapped into a harness, pulling a large covered wagon that squeaked and clanked noisily in the otherwise peaceful evening air. Vol'jin hailed his friend as she came to a stop before him. It had been nearly a week since their sparring match, and although they had not seen much of each other over the last few days, the awkwardness of their parting was greatly alleviated.

"What dis be?" he asked. Armadda smirked, knowingly, her teeth shining brighty in the failing light. The troll raised a brow as she unbuckled the tarp holding the wagon together. A flip of the material revealed several logs of felled Jungle wood. These trees were definitely not from Orgrimmar. Vol'jin dragged a nail across the inner rings of what seemed to be a freshly-cut trunk. The wood was soft and porous and when he bent the log it creaked against the strain but never broke. It would need expert crafting work, but this wood was perfect for designing ritual fetishes, masks, and totems.

"I happened to be... in th' general area of Stranglethorn on me last mission.", Armadda explained, "I thought maybe your folks could be usin' a little present.". Vol'jin stared at her, mouth slightly agape. It was his initial instinct to ask if she knew how desperately jungle wood was needed among his people, but as his mind raced, it settled upon a memory. The troll had told her _himself_ , in a conversation upon a cliff side, nearly a _year_ ago. Not only had she remembered, but she had been thinking of their need during working hours, taking it upon herself to elongate her time away from home - _for their sake_. For the sake of a tribe of people who, by all rights, should hate her.

The more curious of the Darkspear had begin to encircle the two friends as they spoke, sniffing around the cart, some calling others over in rushed tones. Vol'jin climbed onto the cart, standing tall for all those around him to hear.

"We 'ave received a great gift from our Shield Sistah, Armadda! Please t'ank 'er for 'er efforts an' make good use of 'er contribution!". Armadda could feel the eyes of the tribespeople upon her. She was a small red and black speck in a sea of bright blues and greens. They were uneasy and the hesitation bore a heavy, resentful weight. This was not easy for anyone involved. Armadda remained calm, smiling gently as she met the gaze of those around her, but Vol'jin could feel tension mounting and began to worry, but again, as before, the ethnic strain was promptly dispersed.

Vanira, a powerful shamaness, accompanied by the revered master Gadrin, broke their way to the center of the circle like a great wave upon the shore. Wordlessly, Vanira snapped her fingers, and two young trainees began to unload the heavy lumber from the cart. Vol'jin leapt down and came to stand beside Armadda as Gadrin spoke.

"We be grateful, minikin. Ya be doin' a great service to us.", he gestured broadly, parting the gathered trolls behind him and allowing passage between, "Come. We be speakin' inside. Da night grow dark and be full of dread.". Armadda looked to Vol'jin who nodded in response. She patted Bur-Hok on the neck with a firm "Stay.". The troll chief walked closely behind her, ears aggressively folded back, as Gadrin led them into a large hut in the middle of the village. As they passed, Vol'jin spied many troll faces, both surprised and horrified, and it became increasingly clear to him that his experience with Armadda was very personal and did not extend to the rest of his tribe simply because their leader placed his faith in her. They had learned their lesson about trusing others blindly and would need far more convincing of her amicable nature to feel comfortable with her presence in their village. He intended to think on this.

There were two rows of kneeling mats around a brazier in the middle of the large hall. Gadrin gestured to Armadda to take a seat upon the middle mat on the inside row, which she accepted with a 'Thank you.'. He then moved to kneel on the far left of the outside row, Vanira knelt on the far right, and Vol'jin sat opposite Armadda in the middle. There was a brief moment of hesitation before Armadda bowed her head in reverence before them. The Darkspear leader could not contain the amused grin that crept across his fangs. To see his churlish, crass friend melt into a humble house guest was a sight to see. He could feel a slight welling in his chest and it made his neck unusually warm.

"Rise,", he commanded, gesturing with a large, outstretched hand, "der be no need for any o' dat.". Gadrin nodded and spoke.

"Da Darkspear people be wary of da presence of outsiddahs in der village, especially a 'uman."

"I understand.", Armadda responded, "I am no stranger to hostility from Horde races. I did not come here expectin' a parade in me honor." She smiled, little white teeth peeking out reassuringly.

"Be dat as it may,", Vanira joined,"da people will be 'appy to 'ave jungle wood again, and I be 'avin' a small gift for you, as a token of our gratitude.". With a wave of her hand, a large male troll entered the building. He knelt beside Armadda and held out to her a parcel wrapped in red cloth. When it was fully within her grasp, the troll rose to his feet and withdrew from the hall.

Armadda rocked back and sat fully on her rear with legs crossed and laid the gift on her lap. She unfolded the cloth gently revealing a featureless, uncolored voodoo mask. She held it up in front of her, eyes beaming. Vol'jin's smile broadened at the sight of her elated behavior.

"A mask! Thank you!", the tiny woman exclaimed.

"I be savin' dis blank for anoddah.", Vanira continued, "It be no true measure of da t'anks we owe ya. But it be what we 'ave at dis time. Take it and make it ya own. I am sure da Jin can teach ya 'ow. I be takin' me leave and seein' da wood be stored safely overnight.". The troll shamaness stood, and with her, Gadrin gave his thanks and took his leave as well. Armadda thanked them once again, then turned her attention to Vol'jin.

The expression on his face, somewhere between delighted and smug, seemed to change Armadda's mood as she looked at him. There was a long silence, the heat under Vol'jin's jawline was rising to an almost uncomfortable state as it began to flood into his cheeks around his tusks and ears. Her eyes had narrowed and smile broadened. She was staring at him intently, though it was unclear to Vol'jin what she was thinking. After a moment Armadda rose and re-positioned herself on the mat next to the troll where Vanira had knelt.

"Teach me.", she demanded.

"Now!?", Vol'jin recoiled a bit, "It be late already!"

"I ain't got anywhere ta be in th' mornin'. You?", Vol'jin hesitated briefly and he could feel a slight pounding of the blood in his ears.

"No, I do not.", he admitted.

"Good. Teach me.", she repeated. Vol'jin sighed, defeated. He sluggishly rose to his feet.

"I go to get supplies. Don't be goin' nowhere."

Vol'jin stepped out into the night. As the sun went down the moisture in the air had cooled and the temperature dropped considerably. The desert was always chilly after sunset, but tonight was exceptionally uncomfortable for the troll. Still, he had no intention of letting it stop him. Though he had initially fought against it, Vol'jin was becoming progressively more interested in what sort of mask Armadda would carve for herself. He had never seen a human wear such a thing.

As he sorted through his effects, Vol'jin began to wonder _; was dis even a good t'ing_? Vanira had given the mask without hesitation, but the more he thought on it, the more the troll became concerned. _Voodoo, mojo, and hexin' masks be part of troll culture._ he thought, _It be etched into da roots of me people. Be it alright to allow an outsiddah ta carve and wear dere own mask? Would dis offend da Loa_? Vol'jin did not wish to bring shame to his people, or to his comrade, nor did he wish to incur the wrath of violent spirits, but as he returned to the hall, stood in the doorway and looking in to see the genuinely enthusiastic face of the little human before him, the Darkspear Chief could not bring himself to share his worryful thoughts with her.

Armadda had let her hair down from the high-set ponytail her pumped-up mohawk was nearly always tied in. Red strands cascaded aross her shoulders like a waterfall and shone brightly in the fire of the lit brazier. Her smile was just as vibrant. She appeared comfortable.

"Welcome back.", she greeted. Wordlessly, still haunted by doubtful thoughts, Vol'jin walked back to his place on the mat beside her. As he drew closer the cold of the damp evening lessened and with every footstep Vol'jin was warmed. As he knelt back down beside her, gazing down at her beaming blue eyes, the troll could feel the warmth around them was something different than the heat he felt inside his body. There was something else here, in this open hall, that had not been there previously. Whatever it was, the troll felt enlivened by it's spirit, and he noticed his heart steadily began to quicken. Vol'jin didn't know what to make of it, but he had decided, there was no turning back now. He swallowed hard, but kept his composure.

 _Da spirits always be wantin' more 'ands, more blood_ , he thought, placing a small, leather pouch in Armadda's lap, _And... da traditions of da Darkspear be blessed by da Loa, steeped in rich, glorious history of da Troll race._ Armadda opened the pouch, retrieving several carving knives, some pointed, others curved. _Dis be a great honah for an outsiddah. A dutyful 'uman warrior willin'ly sendin' souls to Bwonsamdi would amuse and please da Great Spirit._ He was sure.

Vol'jin nodded to himself, slowly beginning to feel more at ease. As his body began to relax he realized just how tense he had become. Armadda clearly saw this in him and had been patiently waiting for him to speak.

"Are ya gunna tell me what ya fussin' over, mate?", she asked.

"No." he replied, curtly, raising his brows and giving her a half-hearted grin.

"Alright,", she chuckled, "Then show me how to do this."

"I not be showin' ya 'ow. Ya be doin' it ya'self. I jus' be 'ere to make sure ya don't ruin it. Or burn it."

"Would I do that?", she mocked, then raised her hands, flipping them front to back before him, showing off that Solaris, her fire stone, was not currently equpt. Vol'jin chortled in response.

"Flip it over, carve de backside firs'. Make mistakes only where _you_ will see."

Armadda took hold of a small, pointed knife, etching reference lines across the back of the mask. It was over-long for her small, round face and there was plenty of wood to work with. Vol'jin leaned over his friends' shoulder while she worked, widdling away, attempting some semblance of skill in the craft, but she was clumsy with the bigger knives, they were meant for large hands, and it was slow going. As the night wore on, the troll was beginning to tire. His head was heavy with sleep and his tusks were like weights dragging him down. The closer he swayed over Armadda the warmer his body became and it soothed his tired, cold bones. Vol'jin tried to brush the clouds from his eyes, but it only solidified his need for sleep. He closed his eyes, just for a moment.

One moment, three moments, several moments later, Vol'jins eyes opened. He felt a pressure on his jaw, and could hear the scraping of a metal tool being worked across a grainy surface. The feint scent of fresh-cut jungle wood filled his nose and he sighed dreamily. As he gradually regained his consciousness, the Darkspear came to realize how his body was positioned. His bottom jaw rested firmly upon Armadda's shoulder, tusks snaking their way across her chest, his chest leaning heavily on her back. He was almost laying directly on top of her. Vol'jin was suddenly aware that he had been here before. She had not made an attempt to move him or shrug him off, instead she carried on working, the eyeholes of her mask had been cut clean through and she began forming the shape of the edges.

"I think 'm nearly done.", she whispered, noticing he had awakened. Vol'jin quickly retreated back to his mat, a little embarrassed for his dignity. This was not the first time he had let his guard down around the little human woman, but every time he swore it would be his last. It never was. He had grown too accustomed to her presence.

"Ya... doin' well. Keep it up." He tried in vain to hold back a yawn, but it came anyway, loud and forceful. His body was stiff from the awkward position he had layed and he pulled his arms and chest out in a stretch. Armadda chuckled at him.

"Vol'jin, Leader of th' Darkspear Trolls, Shadow Hunter of th' Loa, a vicious savage and also a huge, slumba'some baby.". Vol'jin blew air through his nose in a defiant grunt.

"Ya bore an ol' troll ta deat'.", he teased, baring his teeth at her in a sneer.

"Then, maybe you'll be interested to see this?". Armadda handed him the now-carved mask. It was small in his hands, fit for a juvenile of his kind. The mask was crudely sculpted into the shape of a skull with hideous little teeth and large eye sockets. _It look just like 'er_. With a bit of paint and a soak in laquer it would finish to be an acceptable first attempt, wearable in battle and fit for honoring spirits.

"Good.", he said, "Dis be a symbol of ya connection wit' da Darkspear, now. When ya act wit' dis mask upon ya face, ya act as a part of da tribe. Ya be me Horde Sistah, and maybe someday, de Darkspear will call ya sistah too."

Armadda smiled as she took her mask back from him, but Vol'jin saw something there he thought was odd. Usually her eyes narrowed when she was pleased, smiling from her cheeks, but this expression was not the same.

"That's fairly optimistic of you, Vol'jin Darkspear." She sighed before ascending to her feet. Armadda collected herself and walked silently to the doorway. The sun was beginning to rise over the dunes of Durotar and morning was fast approaching. Vol'jin stood, concern evident on his face. Her mood had taken a sudden dip and he was unsure why. She was teasing him just moments ago.

"Ya be 'uman. But ya no be an enemy of anyone 'ere.", he called after her, but she did not turn to face him. She descended the stairs and made to mount her Rhino, who had stayed in place all night like he was told.

"Sistah...". Armadda visiably winced.

"Please. Don't call me that."

Armadda dug her heels into her mount, beckoning him forward and out of the village, empty cart in tow. Vol'jin remained in the doorway, alone, and growing colder by the second.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Blood and Thunder. It was a common saying among orcs, but today Vol'jin would make it true of the trolls as well. Months of silent, secret preparation were about to come to fruition. The Darkspear were mounting their attack on the Echo Isles. It was time to bring an end to Zalazane's corruption. It was time to return home. Skin war drums were beaten mercilessly by fervent rythmists and a loud, shrill gong called out, it's voice carried on the wind with the prospect of good fortune. Scores of trolls from all over Orgrimmar and at least two dozen other champions sat perched on the shore outside Sen'jin Village, waiting patiently for orders from their Raptor-mounted leader.

Among the congregated masses Vol'jin could recognize many faces. A female Tauren warrior who had aided the Darkspear the day they landed in Durotar after fleeing the Sea Witch. An Orc who had struggled to find himself in battle, now wandering aimlessly in Orgrimmar looking for purpose. And there, atop a massive woolly beast, a tiny face concealed by a mask. Vol'jin swallowed hard, the pressure of the mounting offensive weighing heavy on him. The time to act was soon, he didn't have long to dawdle. He kicked his clawed heel into his raptor, demanding it move.

Upon their mounts Armadda just about came eye-to-eye with Vol'jin. She seemed to be ignoring his presence until he came to a stop beside her. She turned her head to face him, but remained silent. Around them a wave of activity whirled and flew, but between the two there was stillness. A momentary reprieve from the worries of impending war. The Darkspear troll looked upon his friend. Armadda was ready to see Vol'jin's people return to their home. Her voodoo mask had been painted red, a white dash splashed diagonally across the center. It seemed to Vol'jin like a reference to a troll shaman's Fire Totem. His heart sang in his ears that the little blast monk had done some independent work to make the mask relevant both to her and to his tribe. Though Armadda still seemed stirred by their parting a month ago, she winked at him from behind the thick jungle wood.

"Take luck, Chief." she said, an uncharacteristically somber tone in her voice. Many words wished to leave Vol'jin's mouth, confess to her his confusion, confide in her his uneasiness before the battle, but they all seemed to get stuck together, forming a great lump in his throat. It was becoming difficult to breathe. He settled on a nod and held his hand out over the gap between them. Armadda quickly, forcefully, clasped her hand around his wrist, and the troll did the same. He gripped her solid and steady for as long as he could bear to hold her gaze in his.

"Spirits be wit'cha, Armadda.". Vol'jin leaned forward, pulling the human close to his chest and gripping the cloak on her back with his free hand. She seemed momentarily stunned, face pressed firmly against him, then she gently lifted a hand to Vol'jin's neck, resting her fingers between a few loose strands of his mohawk. Bur-Hok moved underneath the woman, he was growing restless in this crowd of carnivorous beasts. Armadda broke the embrace to stay on her mount, adjusting her mask as it had been shifted in the sudden collision.

Vol'jin took one last look at her before pressing his raptor on. It was time.

Armadda had been knocked clean off her Rhino. A stray bolt had hit her as they came barreling into the village. Vol'jin watched it happen, keeping as close eye on her as he could in the ensuing battle. She went down hard, but found her balance relatively quickly, dodging the stomping, crushing feet of other champions atop their ride. Primal voices called out amongst the roars and cries of animals, ahead, fire had already begun to spread across the dry island brush.

The mindless trolls were simply hallowed shells of the proud warriors they once were, but they were no less deadly, especially in a mob. Armadda threw her fists, quick and sharp, and landed several good, hard hits, the last of which sent a firebolt hurtling directly into the midsection of an assailant, causing him to soar into the sky from the impact. Her dominant leg swung wildly, catching an enemy in the jaw, just below his tusk. She used the momentum from the hit to wheel her body around and dig Bearclaw into the neck of an enemy. His guttural cry rang through the trees. But looming in the darkness, a fighter readied to take advantage.

Jun'do the Traitor leapt from the roof of a nearby hut, axe brandished in outstretched arms. Vol'jin bristled, Armadda did not see him. The troll kicked forcefully at his steed, beckoning him forth urgently, swearing in Zandali. The raptor screeched in response, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The Darkspear leader, blood pumping wildly in his veins, teeth clenched, fangs bared in violent rage, leapt from his mount and tackled Armadda's assaulter in the chest, his tusks etching vibrant red gashes into the traitors' flesh. He screamed in bloody agony, gripping with dagger-like claws into his former chieftain's back. Vol'jin barely registered the pain as he knelt atop his victim, pounding his rigid fists into the other troll's skull with every bit of force he could muster.

The zombie trolls, sensing the shift in balance, turned from their other fights and began to converge on the two combatants struggling on the ground. After regaining her composure, Armadda began the task of fending off the attackers. A flashy show of swift movement combined with powerful magic cast the surrounding jungle greenery in a smattering of deep crimson blood and brightly painted fur. Jun'do took advantage of the momentary distraction and kicked Vol'jin from his prone body just enough to wriggle free. Wheezing, the troll slithered off toward the village in the distance, hissing a warning on his exit.

Vol'jin was ready to give chase, but as he re-mounted his raptor a flood of hexed servants descended on the area. Ahead, the war resumed, the clattering of tusks and the singing of enchanted weapons finding their mark filled the air. Fresh blood and smoke wafted on the island breeze and it compelled the troll forward. But here, far behind where she fell, Armadda had her hands full bringing up the rear. A few stray fighters filled the space between her and the village, but they were tied up in a battle of their own. They would be no aid to her. Armadda wheeled around to face him, hair flailing wildly, her blue eyes fierce and vibrant from behind her mask.

"What're you doing!? Go! Get after him!", she yelled. Vol'jin opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. His words were all colliding in his throat again, stuck somewhere between passion, frustration and rage. Armadda bared her teeth and growled at him.

"I'll be fine! I promise!". That was all he needed to hear. Since he had known her, Armadda had been transparent and truthful, even when it was painful or far from beneficial, and Vol'jin was not about to start doubting her again. If she promised she would live to see the end of this battle, he would trust her to do so. A sudden weight seemed to lift from the Darkspears' chest and his departure from the clearing was immediate and swift. As he flew further toward the village, glaive in hand, his mount dodging, weaving, and jumping over foes, the sounds of the fight far behind him dwindled into nothing - save for a loud explosion and the heavy falling of island trees. Vol'jin did not pause or even look behind. He pressed forward with determination and confidence.

Bwonsamdi's visage transcended the puny battle-weary soldiers below him. He towered over the group, corpses at his feet, with a menacing chuckle, a crooked grin across curved tusks. Zalazane was dead and the island had been liberated of his foul voodoo. With his mission accomplished, Vol'jin stood tall before the Loa, by his side, an absolutely blood-soaked human woman. Armadda had caught up to the party as Zalazane breathed his last, callously and unceremoniously, true to her word. A very razzled rhino mooed cautiously nearby. Before dispersing, the fearsome Spirit gazed down upon the crowd, his smirk reducing slightly.

"Fire, eh? We shall see." Bwonsamdi's great arm reached across the battlefield and massive, clawed fingers flicked Armadda's voodoo mask clean from her face, the force of the impact knocking the tiny human to the ground with a weighty _'thud_ '. Vol'jin froze and Bwonsamdi was gone.

Armadda sat upright, blood pouring from her nose, but she did not stand. Vol'jin could see her arms and legs quake. She was exhausted, and likely terrified. The battle had been won, but today was not over for them.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

The crowd around Vol'jin, though stiff and silent, spoke volumes in their expression. The champions who had survived the liberation of the Echo Isles gazed in wonder, while the Darkspear trolls seemed to recoil in horror. Soon, whispers in Zandali began to float around the battle party and Vol'jin could feel his heart sink.

 _Dis be an ill omen!_

 _Bwonsamdi denied her favor!_

 _She be cursed!_

The noise around the clearing steadily grew until hitting a fever pitch. Soon there was shouting and cursing, the thrill of their recent victory stirring the hearts of the warriors.

"Go back to da Alliance, 'uman!", a troll shaman called out.

"Ya ain't welcomed 'ere!", another chimed in. The hairs on Voljin's neck stood on end. His heart raced and his temples burned. He looked to Armadda, prone on the ground, helpless if the mob were to forcefully turn on her. Silently, Vol'jin stood between the gathering mob and his weary friend. He removed his mask and bared his teeth, gums white as snow at the force of his snarl.

"Don't be sayin' such a t'ing wit'out knowin'!", he hollered, his deep voice reverberating in his chest, and, all at once, it knocked loose the words he had held inside all day.

"Ya not be knowin' who ya screamin' at! Who ya be conspirin' against! Do ya not be seein'? Armadda came 'ere to 'elp! She be carin' greatly for da Horde and for da Darkspear people!". He drew a breath, haggard and vicious, " Armadda been givin' me da strength ta carry on wit' dis campaign. She be testin' me, buildin' me! Makin' me bettah by trustin' in me as a leada' and a friend! She be riskin' life and limb for a people who don't want nuttin' ta do wit' 'er and she be askin' _nutt'in_ in return!". Vol'jin balled his fists, claws digging into the flesh of his palms. His voice grew quieter, the mob around them in stunned silence, but his tone was no less passionate.

"Ya might say dat be foolish.", he continued, "And if ya be askin' me a year ago what I t'ink, I be agreein' wit' ya, mon. But in dis short time, dis woman be showin' 'er dedication and conviction. She be showin' me dat love 'as no conditions! She be lovin' da Horde, _**ALL**_ of de Horde, and she be seein' ya 'appy if it take 'er _life_.". Vol'jin stood straight, sheathing his teeth and softening his face, almost in plea. "Ya don't 'ave to love 'er back, but I, Vol'jin of da Darkspear trolls demand ya be givin 'er ya respect. She be ya Shield Sistah. Ya can be trusitn' 'er."

"Vol'jin...", a light touch came to the trolls' arm. It was suddenly warm, but gentle and soothing, a tranquil island breeze to dispel the shivering cold of a thunderstorm. Armadda had risen, finding her strength, but she still appeared ragged and worn.

"Don't worry.", she said. "It's okay.". Vol'jin ripped his arm away with a growl. He wasn't done being angry. His emotions whirled like a storm inside his body. No less than moments ago he had personally murdered his childhood friend gone mad with power. Vol'jin couldn't save Zalazane, and now he was letting another friend down. A feeling of utter helplessness consumed his heart and her complacent nature wasn't going to get him what he wanted.

What he wanted. Vol'jin withdrew into himself for a moment. He looked out over the sea of faces. His people were thrashed. They had done a beautiful job cleaning this mess of a situation, but they had to kill their kin to do so. Many Darkspear lives were lost this day. Parents, mentors, friends, mates, all lost. And now they had to witness their leader, who's dedication and sanity had been called into question by the very troll they had just executed, turn on them after being jury to a potential hexing by a Loa. They were angry, confused, and easily frustrated. Their trust would not be won this day and their loyalty to him could be further called into question if he pushed the issue further.

His gaze fell on Armadda. She knew this too. It was clear on her face, as she gently smiled at him. She was always one step ahead of him. He hated it, but he couldn't bring himself to hate _her_. What he wanted. He wanted to see that smile. He wanted to see that smile because of something proactive _he_ had done. She believed in him, trusted him and it spurred his determination to right whatever wrong had been committed.

Vol'jin looked upon Armadda's voodoo mask. It had flown clear across the battlefield and now rested on a pile of dead troll bodies. This was indeed a fel omen. But it had been the mask Bwonsamdi had attacked, not Armadda herself. If there was any hope in this situation, it would be that Bwonsamdi had spared her his wrath. The mask was not destroyed, in fact, it hardly looked damaged at all. The troll left the woman's side and strode to claim the fallen object. He picked it up carefully, but soon realized his caution was unfounded. He was unharmed, he felt fine. He turned the mask over, looking for anything malicious or out of the ordinary, but nothing could be spotted. Vol'jin walked back over to the crowd. He held the mask out in the space between himself and Armadda, which, admittedly, wasn't very much. She seemed to be hesitating. The human gazed uneasily at the very thing she had carved with her own hands. It was given as a gift of bonding, it was made with affection and reverence but she could not bring herself to touch it.

Vol'jin gathered one of Armadda's tiny hands in his and placed it upon the fetish. He slowly let the weight fall into her grasp. Once she had complete hold of it, though, the troll could see there was something immediately wrong. Armadda's face contorted in pain, and though she had tried to hold back, she let out a harrowing screech and released it from her hold. Vol'jin caught it, expecting it to burn him too, but no such thing occurred. It was as if it were a normal wooden totem to his touch. He returned his sight to Armadda, and, at the same time, they understood.

This was a test. It was not meant for Vol'jin, nor was it meant for any other of his tribe. This was a challenge from Bwonsamdi specifically for Armadda. This time, she forwent hesitation and the blast mage took the mask back from her friend, forcefully, before he had even a moment to protest. The jungle wood immediately pained her on touch. The crowd around them grew restless again, spectators looking on in awe. She took in a deep breath, readying herself for the ordeal at hand, then quickly placed the mask upon her face.

Vol'jin was not prepared for this today. His emotions were clouding his head, he was making rash decisions without thinking. As time had gone on, his muscles became sore and stiff from the riding and fighting of the morning. He couldn't think straight and his body was rebelling. Armadda let out another hoarse scream as the mask began to tear at her flesh, Vol'jin watched his friend topple to the ground a second time. He instinctively knelt down beside her, ready to help her at a moments notice, but a hand came upon his shoulder. Vanira had stayed his movement with a firm grip.

"Ya be wantin' dis woman, ya be lettin' 'er do dis alone.", she said, her voice stiff and cold.

Vol'jin held his breath for what seemed like an eternity. Armadda was thrashing violently on the ground. She pounded her fists into the dirt, clawing at rocks and throwing them wildly. The sounds that came from behind the mask were none he had ever heard from her. The screams and wails clawed their way through the troll's ears and into his body, wracking him to the core. He did not want _this._ Vol'jin reached out, prepared to take the mask back from Armadda. He wanted nothing more than to end her suffering, but she recoiled out of his reach, kicking his hand away firmly. She hissed aggressively at him, her eyes flickering ferociously behind her fetish. She bared her teeth in a savage manner before crumpling onto her back.

The Darkspear chief lost himself and could not place where he was in this moment or the next. Screams and shrieks all melded together with the growing murmur of the crowd in his mind. It was driving him mad. The only thing that had grounded him to reality was Vanira's steady hand upon his shoulder. When she finally relaxed her hold on him, his vision slowly flooded back into his eyes, air into his lungs, but in his ears he heard nothing. Armadda was lying motionless on the ground in front of him, her voice silenced. Vol'jin feared the worst.

"Go, now.", Vanira whispered, "Da trial be ova'.". He quickly scrambled over to her and placed his head upon her chest. Miraculously, Armadda was breathing, coarse and haggard, but she was alive, though she did not appear to be conscious. Carefully, Vol'jin collected his friend in his arms, securing her head firmly againt his chest, mask still present upon her face. Wordlessly, he pressed through the crowd. The Darkspear onlookers, amazed by the feat they had witnessed, bowed their heads as their chief departed. Bwonsamdi had given the human a great test of faith and resolve - and she passed.

Night quickly descended on the Echo Isles. Vol'jin had brought Armadda's body into the hut that had been his home when last he lived on the island. It had fallen into disrepair, but the roof seemed solid - mostly. He dismissed the warband, there was plenty of time tomorrow to begin rebuilding, but tonight was a time for much needed rest for all. The Darkspear removed the riding cloth from Bur-Hok, the woolly rhino followed his rider closely and had calmed considerably. The troll folded the woven fabric as a pillow for his unconscious friend. It would not be comfortable, but it was all he had to work with.

He removed the metal claws from Armadda's hand and took the boots from her feet. With only a moments pause, Vol'jin carefully lifted Armadda's mask from her face. He expected to see boils, welts and damaged tissue, but surprisingly, her face was normal. He sighed in releif. _A mind game_ , he thought, _Da Loa be fond of creatin' pain where dere not_ _ **be**_ _any_. He placed the fetish next to his own, layed in the open doorway of the hut. If anyone had need of their chief this night they would know where to find him. He removed his blood-soaked tabard and the pauldrons from his shoulders and layed down on the dusty wood floor beside his comrade. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat, her body limp, and the evening began to grow cold.

Suddenly, Armadda stirred. Though she did not wake, her body shuddered and her breathing became labored. Vol'jin took Armadda's hand in his, placing Solaris upon her chest, however the warming magic did not come. Vol'jin felt the breeze in his fur now and his body reacted disapprovingly as a chill traced up his spine. Armadda whined pitifully beside him. Drawing closer, Vol'jin pulled the little body against him. He layed his head upon his arm above her, jaw resting on her crown, his free arm cradling the entirety of her back. His fingers snaked their way into her long, free hair and his knees tangled about her feet. His body easily covered her. He had forgotten how tiny she was. On the battlefield she fought with the ferocity of a direwolf, in conversation she held herself with the confidence of any one of his people. But here, in the aftermath of battle, cold and beaten, Armadda was just a tiny human in need of help. With his face partially in her hair, Vol'jin could smell the day she had lived. Sweet jungle grass, thick, sticky blood, and emblazoned wood. He pulled her in tighter.

Before his mind abandoned him to sleep, calm little thoughts came to Vol'jin. Though Armadda was almost always one step ahead of him, today she had reacted impulsively. Tomorrow was an enigma and the troll now had the advantage.

Tomorrow she would do as _he_ willed.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

The dawning of morning came with the beaming rays of the hot, arid desert sun. Streams of light flooded into the dilapidated hut through the holes in the ceiling and spilled across the tangled bodies of the couple therein. During the night Armadda must have awoken, because when Vol'jin finally came to, he found her face pressed deep into the fur of his bare chest. She was asleep now, but looked far more at ease than the evening prior. As the sun rose higher and the day grew longer the heat shared between the two bodies increased and Vol'jin started to become uncomfortable. Despite this, he wished to stay this way until she woke up naturally. He didn't have to wait long.

Thick, black smoke billowed through the decrepit village. It slithered it's way between the trees and through open doors, concentrating in dark places. It carried the familiar smell of death. The Darkspear trolls had begun to burn the dead bodies from yesterday's victory. The stench grew heavier and soon it woke Armadda. She stirred beneath Vol'jin, jabbing him in the ribs with her little elbow. It almost tickled. She looked up at him, eyes still half-lidded and dull from her slumber.

"Good mornin'." She greeted. Vol'jin propped himself up on his arm.

"Good mornin'. Da Darkspear be wakin' early."

"Yeah. Da tiny 'uman be takin' it easy, mon." she mocked his accent. As Vol'jin rose to a seated position, he saw that Armadda moved slowly and placed her limbs firmly, as if she where afraid to lose her balance. Though she had regained consciousness, she was clearly still weak from her ordeal the other day. _Good._

The troll stood and made his way to the door. Outside, the bustling sound of working hands filled the island air. His people, diligent and spirited, were beginning preparations for the busy day ahead of them, but something caught his eye. His voodoo mask was exactly where he had left it; next to Armadda's at the top of the stairs outside his home. Now, though, an offering had been placed before them, a half-bunch of bananas and a freshly skewered fish fillet for Vol'jin and in front of Armadda's mask, a stack of varying tropical fruits, from oranges to papayas to durians. As far as Vol'jin could recall, these consumables did not come with the tribe on their journey over the water, and so the fruit must be from the island itself. He collected the food stuffs and brought them to his struggling friend.

"A gift for you from de tribe.", he explained, tossing an orange her way. Clumsily, she completely missed the catch and the springy citrus bounced off her shoulder and rolled far from her reach. Armadda's depth perception was broken today and her reaction time was slow.

"Vol'jin I can't-". He tossed her another, this time a papaya. She nearly got it, but it crashed into her wrist joint and then slumped to the ground with a gross, wet " _thmp_ ".

"VOL'JIN DARKSPEAR.", she hissed. A feral grin enveloped the troll's tusks as he chucked her another orange, ignoring her in obstinate defiance. Armadda abruptly stopped her attempts to catch the fruit the moment she caught on he was enjoying himself. The troll chuckled deep and hearty. The woman crossed her arms and turned from him, an exaggerated pout on her lips. Vol'jin knelt beside her, peeled banana in hand. He grasped her chin and jaw, the pads of his calloused fingers finding easy purchase on her smooth skin, and slowly, firmly, forced her to face him.

"Ya be needin' ta regain ya strengt' today. Eat, now.". Vol'jin lifted the fruit to her face. She hesitated briefly, eventually taking a bite from the banana, holding his gaze in hers while doing so. Unexpectedly, Armadda moaned a little, quiet and tart. The Darkspear chief swallowed stiffly, his plan on the verge of backfiring. She finished chewing and Vol'jin released her, handing the banana off to her. As she ate the troll returned to the door. A makeshift pavilion had been erected in the center of town, and a great fire pit was being managed by a Witch Doctor aided by a few Priests. Vol'jin descended the stairs and joined them.

The Darkspear were preparing a ritual. Though broken and tattered as the island was, the trolls had everything they needed to weave their voodoo magic. With victory achieved and the island successfully reclaimed, it was time to pay respect to the Loa Bwonsamdi for his uncharacteristic generosity. The Witch Doctor believed it should be priority to solidify their re-connection with the Great Spirit, and Vol'jin agreed. The troll chief assisted in gathering materials and crafting offering mats and bowls. He had hoped Armadda would have joined him in time, but after a few hours, she had still not left the old hut.

Upon his return, a stray Papaya seed flicked against Vol'jin's forehead. Armadda had eaten almost everything that had been strewn about the hut- including the fish that was meant for Vol'jin - but other than that, she appeared to not have moved much. Annoyance soon grew to concern.

"Ya not able ta stand?", he asked.

"No. I don't hurt, but I don't have any energy right now. Tried to tell ya earlier.". Vol'jin squatted down next to her.

"Preparations be nearly done. We be needin' ya up for a little. Everybody gunna participate in da ceremony today.". He extended an elbow out to her. Armadda grabbed hold firmly and allowed him to pull her vertical. Her legs shook violently, but she kept her balance. Vol'jin could feel her grip on him tighten each moment she faltered and it amused him greatly to think the proud, stubborn lass was completely at his mercy. He placed his hand steady on hers and led her down the stairs.

It was high-noon and the desert sun was absolutely relentless. The island breeze blew infrequently, but when it floated in off the ocean it was a releif to all. Under the shade of the pavilion, Vol'jin and Armadda met with Vanira who regarded them enthusiastically.

"Spirits look favorably upon ya dis day, my Jin.". She bowed lightly before them.

"Good to see ya, Vanira.", Armadda greeted. The female troll's smile grew wide on her fangs.

"And you, sistah. Ya be lookin' a might bettah den how I seen ya yesta'day!", she laughed and Armadda joined her.

"I be 'avin' a favor ta ask ya, Vanira.", Vol'jin interjected, "Armadda not be strong enough to walk on 'er own, but she need ta be cleaned up before we can begin."

"I see. Yes, I will 'elp.", The shamaness held her strong arm out for Armadda to take hold. "Come,", she instructed, "dis ceremony be communal, but I be seein ya a private place ta bathe dis once."

Never was it said that the Darkspear were a fastidious group of trolls. Zandalari tradition required regular bathing, but Vol'jin and his people seemed almost adverse to cleanliness. But on this day the cool, salty spray of the ocean was a much welcomed luxury and a temporary reprieve from the hellacious mid-day sun. The tribe's males gathered with their chief to rid their fur and hair of the impurities of war. One troll managed to pull an entire finger from the snarled thatch of hair upon his head. They washed their clothes and gear, making ready for the ritual.

Returning to the pavilion, mask upon his face, Vol'jin beheld the handiwork of his dedicated worshipers. Along the pillars great crimson snakes had been painted in a mixture of mashed fruit and blood. They coiled and stretched around the supporting columns, stray drippings and clumps of un-mashed fruit - _maybe_ \- cast eerie tendrils across the wood. Skulls and bones, stripped clean of their flesh, were strung together and hung from the roof. They clattered in the wind, loose tusks and finger bones rapping against hallow craniums like a macabre wind chime.

Vanira returned with Armadda in tow. Now cleaned, the human's hair cascaded erradically over her shoulders and back in un-tamable defiance of gravity. Bright red, it reflected the overhead sun with a brilliant sheen. She wore her black underlayer and across her shoulders flowed a deep sanguine robe. Her mask sat firmly upon her face, the only signs of yesterday's struggle being slight scorch marks around the edges. She seemed far more stable now, but still clung to the shamaness for reassurance. Many trolls turned to look at them as they entered the center of the village, others ignored them completely, and Vol'jin was unsure which reaction he preferred. No one seemed to protest, though, and that was enough for him. He reached for her hand.

Vol'jin helped Armadda kneel on a mat beside him. The fire pit blazed as the Witch Doctor threw a smattering of sand and mortared bone at it's base. With a great " _whoosh_ " it doubled in size and drew the attention of the entire tribe, bringing them together.

"Warriors! Supporters and emissaries of chaos!", he began, "Da days dat come be yours to make, but today we break to honah da Great Spirit Bwonsamdi for his assistance in returning our 'ome to it's rightful owna's!". A handful of trolls cheered and hollered, some in Zandali. "Make ya offerin', food and drink, before da fire. Den we ready da drums.".

The Witch Doctor reached into his robe and removed a large, flat item. Vol'jin recognized it immediately - it had been Zalazane's own hexxing mask. A slight twinge tugged at his heart as the fetish was thrown mercilessly into the fire. He must have reacted in some way, because Armadda turned to look at him, concern shining in her eyes. When he did not turn to face her she placed her hand upon his forearm and Solaris began to emit a comforting warmth far different from pinching heat of the sun. The troll's body shuddered, and he closed his eyes.

Zalazane was truly gone now. His body broken, peirced by Vol'jin's own glaive, his spirit shattered, mask ablaze, Zalazane had met his end. If there was anything that could give the troll comfort is was that his childhood friend was now in Bwonsamdi's hands. The Darkspear chief allowed Solaris to take him, and soon a gentle radiance filled his weary bones. He was unused to such temperate luxury, he always viewed it as a weakness. A troll's life was filled with war, pain and struggle by _preference_. But this instability could hardly be weathered alone. His people were too proud and tenacious to share their hurts with outsiders, but if Armadda was willing to share her peace with him, he would take it. Solidarity with a human, how completely _bizarre_.

After a moment, Vol'jin reopened his eyes. He removed a parcel from his kit which contained a few cups of boiled rice and small waterskin of wine. He placed the rice upon a makeshift alter before the fire and poured the wine into a hallowed coconut shell. He turned to Armadda.

"Havin' ya anyt'in' ta offer da Spirits?", he asked. A small grin slowly crept across her face, little white teeth peeking out for the first time Vol'jin had seen them in quite some time. She pulled a metal flask from an inside pocket of her robe.

"Whisky, den.", he affirmed, but Armadda shook her head.

"Orange Juice."

There was a pause. A long, halting silence. And then, from seemingly nowhere, a vigorous roar of laughter. From his lungs came a heaving bray followed by a string of cackles, too insistent to keep inside, and Vol'jin wheezed at the force of his amusement. The sudden explosion of noise caught the attention of some surrounding tribesfolk and they stared at him, bewildered. He slammed a hand down on Armadda's back, almost knocking the wind out of her.

"I not be knowing when da Great Spirit last drank an offerin' o' juice, mon, but I can guarantee, ya be 'avin' da mos' unique Loa experience I eva did 'ear about!", he chortled, trying to restrain himself, "Heh, heh... orange juice.". When Vol'jin finally regained his composure his eyes beheld a familiar sight. Armadda's smile, wide of tooth and with narrowed eyes, had returned to her face, He could see it clear even behind her mask. Without warning, Vol'jin's arm raised, almost on it's own, his fingers coming to rest lightly at her bottom jaw before he re-assumed control and quickly retracted. _Where dat come from?_

Armadda sniggered and Vol'jin could feel an effervescence in his chest, the heat rising slowly through his neck and into his cheeks, flushing the space between his eyes. It crept into his stomach this time too, slowly crawling it's way shamelessly into his loins. The troll wriggled his fingers uncomfortably.

Armadda was a beautiful woman, for a human, he had always known this. Her hips were wide with a pleasing thigh-line, her chest was large and framed her midsection well. Her skin was dotted with a spray of freckles and a burnt amber tan which had darkened over time spent in Orgrimmar . But an attraction to her was not something Vol'jin had ever considered, at least not consciously. The bubbling turned over in his stomach, and he could not easily understand what he was feeling. One word kept cycling through his mind; _human...human..._ Vol'jin wondered if maybe Armadda had ever had the same thought about him, turning the word "troll" over and over in her heart. A second word began to resonate inside the Darkspears' head _. Sister..._ She had been upset when the troll had called her sister. It meant something, but Vol'jin's train of thought was broken when the world came suddenly flooding back to him as the loud, rhythmic beating of a drum commenced.

Armadda had poured the orange juice from her flask into her own coconut shell while he was being introspective. As the drums around them increased intensity, a small blue flame appeared over the offering Vol'jin had left to his altar and, slowly, the offering dissolved and fed into the blaze of the fire pit. Armadda sat high on her heels, gazing in wonder. Vol'jin grinned at her enthusiasm.

"'Earin' 'im drums, Bwonsamdi gunna collect 'is offerin's. Anyt'in' 'im likes, 'im take.". They both quickly turned their attention to Armadda's altar, but nothing seemed different. Vol'jin watched as the woman's' eagerness waned in favor of disappointment.

"Bwonsamdi ain't gotta sweet tooth?", she asked, a forced grin across her lips. A joke to defuse any speculation of hurt feelings. It could not fool Vol'jin.

"Spirits be preferin' somet'in' meanin'ful. Anybody can offa anyt'in' dey want, but _sacrificin_ ' somet'in' sentimental or important, dat be more interestin' an' show da Loa dat ya _mean_ it when ya praise 'em.". Armadda squinted.

"You literally gave him rice and wine.", she huffed. Vol'jin stiffened and his ears folded back. He lashed out suddenly.

"I _gave_ 'im me childhood _friend_... an' da loyalty of me _people_.". Armadda immediatly sank back in surprise, tearing her hand away from his arm, but she said nothing. She watched and waited. After a moment, the troll realized he had bared his teeth at her, a threatening display that transcended race. Even a human, with their tiny, flat teeth understood a flash of sharpened fangs. Solaris' warmth slowly faded from his body, and Vol'jin began to feel the searing heat of the desert sun on his face. He sighed heavily and hung his head, rubbing his temples with padded fingers and bringing his tusks down in apology.

"I be sor-"

"No.", she cut him off, "No, _don't_ be sorry.". Tentatively, Armadda reached back over the void between them and took gentle hold of his chin, lifting his face. He jumped a bit, a wave of her magic re-entering his body and flooding his soul all at once. "You do nothin' but _give_ Vol'jin. For your people, for Thrall, for th' _Horde_.". She dropped her gaze then, voice shrinking, almost to a whisper. "No-one can ask any _more_ of you.". Her face, expression between adoration and pain, turned from him.

That _face._ That was it. That's what held all her power, all her sway over him. It was no physical might, no strength of character and no burning magic. It was her beautiful, expressive face that forced this proud, stalwart troll to transform into a broken, kicked puppy in need of attention. Smug, her smile could cause him to act rashly, impulsively, abandon all progressive thought. Serious, he could lose himself in her piercing blue eyes. Soft, Armadda could bring forth an alien gentleness from him and rip it straight from his throat.

Again, Vol'jin was thrust back to reality, this time, by the raucous sound of a struck gong. The ceremony was drawing to a close. Around them, many trolls began to dance, some taking partners, others getting down solo. Normally, Vol'jin would have joined them, but today, his place seemed to be glued to his mat, captivated by a whirling, un-tamable fire. Armadda, now facing the makeshift altars, opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She seemed to be having some difficulty.

"Speak... Fill me ears wit' ya voice. They big an' can 'old much.". Vol'jin attempted some semblance of reassurance, but wasn't sure himself what to say. This was not his territory and he would have much preferred to roar her worries away, claw the doubt from her chest. But after a moment, Armadda did as she was asked.

"My father and I, we used to sit under an old orange tree every spring 'n eat fruit until we were sick.", she began. "Me mum, she had terrible allergies. She couldn't sit comfortably with us, so it was just me n' my papa.". The troll ached for his own father then. When he was young, Sen'jin would take his boy to the shore before sunrise and spear fish. They would earn their food for the morning. His father would reprimand him for poor performance, scaring off his catch. He would leave his son with an empty stomach, but a full heart. Vol'jin quickly learned to be still, quiet and observant.

"Father was a warrior. He was always movin'. I didn't get to spend much time with him before he passed.", Armadda continued, "But the memories I have of him are permeated by the thick, sweet scent of citrus.". She smiled then, more to herself than anything. "He told me once, that he believed a person's only true job was to do what made them happy, and do what pleased their loved ones."

"And 'ave ya been listenin' to ya faddah's words?" Vol'jin asked, turning the concept over in his head. "'Ave ya been fulfillin' ya'self and bringin' peace ta da people ya cherish?"

"No' sure yet." Armadda said. Vol'jin would have asked for clarification, but, just then, a small blue flame appeared above the offering Armadda had placed upon Bwonsamdi's altar, catching the undivided attention of both friends.

"I ain't _done_ yet."


	10. Chapter 10

10.

Vol'jin pulled his robes around his body. Teal and dark blue, they reflected the colors of his tribe. Though he had made the effort to wash his fur and comb his hair, the Darkspear chief was becoming increasingly agitated. He wanted to blame it on the confining clothing. His tabbard usually clung to his chest, but it was sleeveless and allowed him far more breathing room. These ceremonial long-sleeved robes covered him nearly completely. He almost felt itchy. But in truth, this was only a small reason for his discomfort. In reality he was nervous, and Vol'jin did not like the reason why.

On his way into to city the Darkspear had spied Armadda. She had made ready for a dance, same as he, that took place annually to celebrate the closing of the Winter Veil holiday. She was dressed to the nines. Underneath a beautiful, layered silver necklace, a low, v-shaped neckline curved into a backless dress. It was so form-fitting that Vol'jin could see the indentations where her abdominal muscles were under the fabric. It had a long, trailing skirt that started jet black, gently gradienting to deep red, to blood red, then to orange, yellow and hot white. He had never seen anything like it and the sight of her sent him into complete panic. She had not seen him, the shadow hunter had quickly dodged her sight, but now he stalled inside, unable to convince himself to move. Then, he felt a familiar giant hand upon his shoulder - Thrall.

"Ready?", he grinned.

"No." Vol'jin replied, sharply. The orc simply chuckled and moved passed him. He waved his hand, beckoning the troll forward as the sound of drums began to fill the evening air. His heart beat in time with the instruments, but his feet compelled him forward. Outside, the sun had fully descended, but there was light in the city, great bonfires blazed around Orgrimmar, and many benches and food stalls were situated around elevated dancing stages. Most benches had already been filled. Vol'jin's people called out to him as he passed and he regarded each of them as evenly as he could. Eventually, though, the troll was brought to a grinding halt once again.

His eyes finally beheld a wondrous sight; Armadda had taken the floor of a stage, and with the rapid beating of a nearby drum, she danced unrestrained in the intense light of a nearby fire. Her wide hips rolled her body across the dance floor, strong legs flashing from under her flailing skirt. Her arms moved fiercely in time with the beat, her head and chest, by contrast gyrated pleasingly with her midsection. It sent her jewelry flying wildly around her. In her hand, the woman held a sheer, black scarf. Vol'jin recognized this article of clothing, noting that many races used this cloth to rope others into dancing with them. There were a few orc women on stage with her, but no males had been brave enough to set foot on the platform. Vol'jin finally came to stand at the base of the woodwork.

Armadda had noticed him from a distance away, and, as she danced, she made her own path to the edge of the floor. She smiled at the humbled troll, his mouth slightly agape, her eyes glowing eagerly. The woman sensually winked at him, even getting her shoulders in, then turned to face away. Armadda threw the cloth over her shoulder, and it came floating down to gently land on Vol'jin's face, draping itself across his tusks. Cheers and whoops sounded from the crowd around them. Many hands came into contact with the Darkspear's back, pushing him forward. He clutched the fabric in his hands.

Vol'jin looked to the cloth, then to the woman. She had clearly chosen him as her dance partner, but he was having difficulty accepting. His body was rigid, his heart beat loudly in his ears. Suddenly, the cloth was ripped from his hands. A large male orc now had the favor and intended to climb onto the stage. The crowd errupted into "oohs" and other surprised and mocking sounds. Armadda raised an eyebrow as she cocked her head over her shoulder to flash him a cheeky grin.

Vol'jin's arm came wheeling into the orc's chest with a vicious snarl, claws scratching at his skin. The troll's victim fell back at the force and Vol'jin seized the cloth from the thief. He bared his teeth defensively, ears pinned back against his neck, and the on-lookers laughed at the spectacle. Vol'jin thrusted his tusks in the other male's direction and the poor orc, his opportunity gone, slinked away through the crowd. The Darkspear's blood boiled angrily, and he vaulted onto the stage before anyone else could take his favor from him.

Armadda still had not fully turned to face him, but as he drew close to her, Vol'jin could see her little eyes sparkle. She was watching him, waiting for him to make a move. Gently, the troll wrapped the sheer cloth around the woman's neck, stringing a bow and slowly pulling it tighter. Then, he tentatively placed his hands upon her shoulders, forcing her to turn to him.

"I... I not be sure how ta dance wit' someone so _small_.", he admitted. She giggled lightly at him, and Vol'jin could barely hear her above the noise of the drums. She reached for his neck and pulled the troll down to her level, speaking directly into his ear.

"Just dance like you normally would. I'll make it work. That's what I _do_.".

It wasn't untrue, and a bit of Vol'jin's tension alleviated. He stood back to full height. He gradually began to move his body, first his legs, back and forth they took him, but also around as began to circle her. She followed him, keeping her hips perpendicular to his. Armadda raised her arms and flourished in a leisurely manner. The troll kicked into a bit of speed, his arms picking up the beat of the drums. They cut the space between them each time Vol'jin stepped back, and out again when he stepped near, switching arms each time. After a few minutes repeating this action, the troll placed a hand upon his partner's hip, drawing her in. She obliged and was soon lifted into the air, if only briefly. She laughed at the unexpected turn, and Vol'jin joined her. He sunk back a bit, and lifted his foot, clearing her head in an almost roundhouse kick. Noticing his wide stance, Armadda gained some floor space, then ran to her partner, sliding under him flawlessly. Not to be outdone, Vol'jin sprang into a back flip and landed on one hand, upside-down, beside her. She laughed harder and, using both hands, she pushed on his chest knocking him over. The crowd around them laughed heartily, and the Darkspear chief did as well. Armadda stood triumphantly before them, earning her a round of applause.

On his knees, Vol'jin was _just_ shorter than the woman. She offered him a hand to help him up. He took her little hand, with it's superfluous fingers, in his own, but instead he lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles lightly. He did so without thinking. The troll had gotten so caught up in the moment, focusing on Armadda, that he had forgotten there were others around them. He felt a familiar, hot sensation creeping into him and he knew he wouldn't be able to contain it there on dance floor. He opened his eyes and regarded Armadda, but her face had fallen, as if she could feel something was wrong. It was strange to see her so concerned, and doubt crept back into his heart. He saw her lips move as she asked him something, but with the pounding in his head, Vol'jin did not hear. His heart raced and his throat tightened. The troll stood and pushed passed the human without explanation.

The Shadow Hunter made quick work of slipping through the crowd. He soon made his way to the gate with every intention to leave. Against his better judgement, he turned to look behind him. Armadda quickly raced on her stout little legs to catch up with him. Vol'jin steadied himself, waiting for a lecture, or some smug accusatory banter, but neither came. Silently, the woman untied the sheer cloth from her neck. She gently took Vol'jin's arm in her hands and retied the favor around his wrist. She sighed slightly, then took in a heavy breath. Armadda forced a sweet, reassuring smile. It was not her own, and they both knew, but Vol'jin appreciated the gesture anyway.

"Goodnight." She cooed. Vol'jin rested a finger under her chin, then gently traced his claw and thumb across her cheek.

"Goodnight."


	11. Chapter 11

Final

It had been several months since Thrall had departed from Orgrimmar. Garrosh Hellscream held the title of Warchief in his absence and Vol'jin was beginning to fear for the safety of his people. Cairne Bloodhoof was dead and the Tauren people were in great disagreement and turmoil. His own tribe was beginning to show fractures in their loyalty to the new leader. It was clear to all that Hellscream put the orcs above all other races, and anyone who opposed him got pushed even further down the ladder in regards to his respect. Vol'jin wished for nothing but to speak with Thrall. His blood brother, though incouragable at times, was wise and tactful. The troll held his counsel above all others. After losing his temper and threatening Garrosh's life, it was almost certain that hard times were to fall upon the Darkspear.

Armadda had sent a message via raven to all known points she beleived Thrall would take rest, and finally, after nearly a month of waiting, she received a letter back from the former Warchief. He accepted their request to meet with him, but it must be done soon, and someplace as neutral as possible. He could spare no more than 24 hours, and if the window of opportunity closed, the little human and the Darkspear chief would be on their own. Taking their positions and small time frame into account Armadda had suggested a rendezvous point; a summer home of a friend she had, located along the coast south of Theramore. The owners would not be at the cabin at this time of year, it was far too cold, and with the worsening of the Cataclysm, no one wished to travel far from home.

Vol'jin readied a pack, taking with him a bow for hunting. Armadda said wild deer could be caught within the upland forest before the marsh, and if they were going to make good time, the less provisions weighed them down, the better. The troll's raptor was, far and away, much faster than Armadda's Rhino, and though he believed that, in time, she had what it took to tame and ride an ancient beast of her own, time was simply not what they had. Instead, they were forced to saddle up together.

It wasn't terribly uncomfortable, with the little human riding in front of the large troll. She fit almost perfectly under his tusks and between his arms as he held the reigns tightly. When the dinosaur would jump across a ravine, or hop along a string of rocks, Vol'jin would hold the woman by the stomach, pressing her back against his torso, keeping her steady. Armadda was keen on keeping her balance, in fact, she almost over-compensated them down a few times. She explained that, upon a beast as large as her mount, sometimes the difference between staying in the saddle and being stomped to death was determining how gliding one should be to a sharp turn or stop. The momentum her Rhino carried could send her careening into Blunt Force Trauma-land at a moment's notice. Vol'jin chuckled.

They made their way quickly, entering the shrublands along the southshore of Kalimdor. Vol'jin's observant eyes caught sight of subtle movement among the willows and he steered his mount to chase. Before long they were barreling down upon an unsuspecting forest stag. He was of average size and build, but he wore a crown of impressive antlers upon his head, overgrown and broken in places, suggesting to the troll that he was an old fighter. _Perfect_. Vol'jin passed the reins off to Armadda, who beamed beneath him. She had only to hold the mount steady as her partner drew his bow, but she appeared pleased to be driving the raptor regardless. The troll loosed his arrow and it met it's intended mark, skillfully piercing the beast's eye. The deer tumbled head first down a hill and into a shallow creek, where it quickly died.

To tie the carcass to Vol'jin's raptor, the saddle had to be re-strapped further up on the animal's shoulders. This caused a great deal more instability on Armadda's part and had her bouncing quite bit on the rockier terrain. The odd bump the troll took the jaw was no matter, but it also sent her rear slamming into his thighs on more than one occasion, releasing a wild heat in his chest and stomach. Luckily, the woman did not tease or mock him, else she might have been intentionally thrown from the mount out of heat-denied rage. But the cabin came into sight without incident, and Vol'jin was glad to finally dismount. The lodge was built of strong redwood, sanded to a fine finish. It was perched upon a small, obtuse cliff, which supported a back porch and a weathered wooden staircase descending to the beachfront below. The wind was picking up, and it blew a cold, wet breeze through the troll's tabbard. He shivered displeasingly.

The inside was fairly roomy, with a wide floorplan, two separate sleeping quarters, a large kitchen area, and amenities for hunting and trapping. Some very wealthy humans owned this place, and the Darkspear troll was feeling very out of sorts. He hunched over a little more than he usually did, the ceiling was low to him, and he _knew_ that before the trip was over, both he _and_ Thrall would have hit their heads on _something_ in this place. Vol'jin hefted his kill onto a large butcher's table. Armadda quickly found a chopping block and knife for skinning.

"I'll skin and butcher this kid iff'n you wanna cook 'em up after.". Vol'jin nodded. He wasn't the most skilled cook. In fact, between the two, he expected Armadda would be much more suited to serving dinner, but she seemed adamant about removing the pelt from the animal.

"I been practicing.", she said. "I almost got a whole skin off a boar a week ago.". Her eyes shone brightly with pride. The troll had been skinning fish and animals since he was six, and the discipline was second nature to him now. Vol'jin regarded her with admiration in his eyes as she parted the carcass at the belly and slipped the knife smoothly under the stag's skin. Armadda was clearly a novice, taking careful time not to waste any of the meat. She did eventually poke a few holes in the hide, swearing in orcish each time, but had she been a young troll huntress, Vol'jin would be reasonably impressed at her skill.

Armadda was much quicker and far more skilled at butchering the meat. She removed the organs and separated the thighs, loin, breasts, and shoulders in the span of only a few minutes. She removed the flesh from bone and tendon, snapping legs and it's neck along the way. She separated shank from haunch, driving her knife along the natural seems in the kill's body. They ended up with several thick chuck venison steaks from the loin, a bowl over-filled with diced breast and rump stewmeat, two chop racks, two huge shanks, and a towering pile of trimmed excess, which if Vol'jin hadn't watched her carve it, he would have guessed it came from a bigger animal.

"I think we'll save the chucks and shanks for tomorrow. We'll have to feed Thrall _something_.", the butcher said. "There's always an ice chest here, I'll have to fish it out."

"Aye. Ya be havin' more den enough dere for a good stew.". Armadda handed Vol'jin a large cauldron and ladle as she draped the hide over her shoulder.

"I'll get this on the rack, There should be some dry wood in the cellar if ya wanna start the fire.".

Before Vol'jin headed outside, he turned his attention to the carcass that remained on the table. The stag's antlers were lined in velvet not yet shed, it's core was porous and thick. This deer had lived a good, long life, and now his power would go to providing the two hunters an opportunity to better their own. The troll broke a branching prong from the rack with only the might of his own arms and carried it out with him.

Midday was quickly passing and the evening would soon be upon them. The temperature was dropping and Vol'jin found himself happy to have been the one to cook, now that he was warm by the fire. As the cauldron bubbled, the Darkspear had found himself a mortar and pestle and was beginning the slow process of powderizing his deer antler. Returning from the tanning rack, Armadda leaned over his shoulder to inspect his work.

"Medicine?", she asked. Vol'jin nodded.

"Mm. Good mojo.", the troll answered. "Da velvet be used in incense by me people.". Armadda perked up.

"That's cool, I didn't know that!". Vol'jin grinned at her. It pleased him that she had been so enthusiastic to learn about his culture in the time he had known her. The little human had taken everything in her stride, and it amazed the Darkspear to think back on how they had come in such a short amount of time.

"I'm going to have to wash and change...", she said, plucking her blood-soaked jacket from her skin. She had cleaned the carcass from the kitchen with less than graceful success.

"Food will be done when ya ready.", he assured. And it was. The stew, sadly, had no other ingredients aside from the meat, save a few spices Vol'jin found in the cupboards of the kitchen, but it was thick with rich blood and tasted fresh and delicious. Armadda kicked her feet as she sat beside him, enjoying her meal, clean in fresh robes. She hadn't bothered to re-apply her armor and her hair had been let down. Vol'jin, giving up on finishing his powderising, held the short, pointed end of one of the antler prongs against Armadda's face. She sat still, but a quizzical expression appeared on her face.

"For ya mask. Ya not be havin' tusks ta scare ya enemies wit. But maybe dese?". The woman giggled.

"I think I'd like that."

The sun quickly descended over the far-off marsh trees and the offending cold drove the two inside. Armadda had shown Vol'jin a little alter in the front room. It was normally used for Light worship, but it was barren of effigies and could easily be used to send offerings or commune with other spirits. It was the first chance Vol'jin had to be alone all day, and though he was enjoying the company of the little human, he sat before the alter. Armadda brought him a candle and left the troll to himself for a while. He lit a few strands of velvet aflame and breathed deep the burning earthen scent. The day had done good to take the troll's mind off his worries. It was difficult to focus on anything but Armadda when she was near. Her voice and her mannerisms demanded attention, and Vol'jin found himself drawn further in the longer he humored her.

But he was alone with his thoughts, now, and his troubled mind resurfaced. His soul reached out into the void, lookig for something to take him, guide him in the meantime before meeting with the former Warchief. In other cases like this, a vision might come to the troll, granted by a Loa. Sometimes the great Spirits would come to him and speak directly. In other instances the Spirits would not appear, but they would send him soothing energy, and lift his heart or help mend the wounds in his mind. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to happen at all, and Vol'jin was left disappointed and becoming increasingly frustrated. He waited a little longer hoping his patience could gain him favor, but no such luck came to the troll. He sighed, wearily. Vol'jin gave up for now and stood to search for his companion. He peeked in every room, but the woman was not in the cabin. Spying a window, he peered outside.

The night was cool and a stiff ocean breeze brought with it a spray of salty moisture. As he gazed out into the darkness, Voljin caught sight of tiny stray lights floating around the shore. He thought them fireflies at first, but they soon grew in number, clustering together and forming great luminescent clouds. It was captivating to see as they waved along with the tide, back and forth. It was like nothing he had ever witnessed before. As his eyes trailed further along the shore, the troll spotted Armadda striding up the sand bank. Her hair billowed in the wind and her robe flew wildly around her body each time the breeze steamrolled off the ocean. Vol'jin would have believed anyone else would freeze. He wasn't terribly enthusiastic about following into the chill, but then the little human stepped out into the water, dispersing the lights, who brightly shone around her, most likely in response to the sudden activity and movement. It piqued his curiosity.

As Vol'jin made his way up the beach he noticed that the lights were actually _in_ the water, not floating above as an insect might do. This further perplexed him. He soon came to a stop a few feet behind Armadda. She had waded further out to sea, the trailing of her robe now was humming quietly, the troll's keen ears picking out her voice from the wind, and a gentle smile layed upon her lips. She had clearly felt his presence, but had not fully turned to face him.

"What be dis?", Vol'jin asked.

"Bio-Luminescent plankton.", she explained.

"No. _Dis_.", he gestured to her, standing brazenly in the icy waters, a drove of lights teeming around her, little blue shines floating peacefully.

"A trap."

"Oh?" Vol'jin's ears perked forward. "And what ya be trappin'?". She turned to him then, eyes shining brightly in the light of the swarm. Coyly, she untied her robe and slipped it from her shoulders, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath. Armadda flashed him a smirk as he straightened his back in surprise. She balled the garment and tossed it to him, the fabric hitting Vol'jin in the chest with what seemed like the force of an iron canon shot. She turned then and sank further out into the water until she was waist deep.

"Come.", she commanded. Little prickles formed under Vol'jins fur as his body reacted to the stimuli; the cool breeze, the flickering lights and sudden presence of a very naked, very beautiful lady. He battled with himself, as he stepped gingerly into the water,a chill running up his spine as the brisk sea sunk to his skin. It was terribly uncomfortable, and Vol'jin knew it would only get worse. Still, he was far too curious for what his lady friend had in store. His mind raced wildly, heart beating in his ears.

Interestingly, as Vol'jin drew closer to her, the water around them seemed to grow warmer. In fact, once the troll was also waist deep, the sea almost resembled a bath. Armadda raised a hand to her chin as she chuckled at him, Solaris glowing serenely upon her finger. As he made his way forward, she slowly led him out into a deep dropoff. She pushed off from the edge, dispersing little angry glowies, and floated there. Before joining her, Vol'jin clawed his wet tabbard from his torso and removed his underlayer from his legs, tossing them both ashore. The glow of Armadda's magic ring was as soothing as ever and any doubt the Darkspear held about the situation floated effortlessly away from him.

Armadda submerged herself underwater, and Vol'jin followed suit. After the initial bubbling of air left his ears, there was nothing but white noise and the occasional slosh of a wave washing over his body. He let the deep, heavy silence and the caress of the warm water seep into his bones and further put his mind at ease. When he was ready, Vol'jin opened his eyes. Little blue speckles swirled all around him, illuminating the black ocean water in tiny little bursts, like stars sparkling in the vastness of the sky. The clouds shifted, dispersing and re-forming. The minuscule specks seemed to be attracted to one another. As they fluttered over Armadda's skin, Vol'jin could just make out her form in the darkness, bright eyes prevalent in the low light. She drew closer to him, a smile on her face. This was the best trap Vol'jin had ever willingly jumped into.

As they surfaced the cold breeze tangled itself in their wet hair and it only served to drive Vol'jin back underwater. This time, he pulled Armadda down with him. He grasped her forearms tightly, keeping her close. Down here, there was no doubt, no fear, no tribulation. There was nowhere to run, like he had from the festival, and Vol'jin decided he did not wish to. Gently, he pulled Armadda to be at eye level with him, and he pressed his forehead against hers. Their loose hair mingled together as minute blue sparks danced in and out of the tresses. They floated together for as long as their lungs would allow. Vol'jin's feet met the sandbar, the waves had pushed them back to the drop-off. Finding stability, he rose back to the surface, bringing Armadda with him. They were both a little out of breath.

"Time for a break.", She said. He still had hold of her arms, and as the ocean breeze wound itself around his ears, Vol'jin considered bringing her back down. He aquiested though, when she pulled him back toward shore. They layed next to one another in the shallows, taking a brief rest, the warm tides like a shifting blanket across their bodies. Vol'jin had never felt something so comfortable. He was perfectly contented, on most occasions, to lay directly on the ground or upon wood or stone. But, for tonight at least, the Darkspear chief was happy to lounge in the pleasant, tranquil waters with Armadda.

He turned, and found her smiling at him. She had sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. Against his better judgement, and to the chagrin of every inch of his wet skin, Vol'jin rose to sit upright as well. His mohawk had come undone underwater, and the warm streams flowing down his back and chest gave him goosebumps. Something caught his eye then, an irregular mark upon the human's shoulder he had not noticed before. It seemed to him a deep puncture scar that had not healed fully. Humans were so _fragile_. In the waving light Vol'jin caught sight of yet another puncture wound, likely the same age as the other. He placed a finger over each scar, assessing the distance between them.

"I did dis...", he realized. He remembered the sparring match they had _months_ ago. The troll had bitten her neck to gain the upper hand. She almost exclusively had her shoulders covered since then, and he hadn't even given the wound a second thought. Armadda placed her hand upon Vol'jin's.

"Aye. A wee _love bite_ to remember our match by.". The look on her face was smug, but with it came a flirtatous expression. She tightened her fingers around his hand and stared deeply into his eyes. The sudden shift in mood might have otherwise surprised Vol'jin, but after over a year of time with this tiny blast monk, he had grown to understand her. She was brazen and willful, stubborn with a strong heart and a mind to match his own. Vol'jin knew every step they had taken together today had been planned farther in advance than the troll could guess, because in this time Armadda had also come to know _him_. Despite his best efforts, they had grown close, and in her eyes the troll could see their connection, solid and bright. It drew him to her, body and soul, a rising heat longing for contact.

Vol'jin's lips found Armadda's gently, at first, a tentative step into uncharted territory. Finding the right angle seemed difficult. Her head fit well between his tusks, but his nose was large and his teeth sharp. She chuckled, tilting her head and placing her mouth firmly between his fangs.

"Don't be afraid.", she cooed. Armadda lifted her hands and her fingers snaked their way into Vol'jin's thick hair. She gripped lightly, putting force on the back of his head. Solaris released a pleasing wave of energy that flooded his entire body. It felt good, and he hummed into the ensuing kiss. His partner slipped her tongue into his mouth, bravely tracing over his sharp fangs. He growled seductively, and Armadda bit into his lip, a little growl of her own in response.

The rumbling in Vol'jin's throat grew in intensity with every kiss they shared. His heart beat in his ears and his skin shivered with pleasure each time the woman attempted to control his head with her tiny hands. She played with his earlobes and ran the flat of her hand below his jawline, little nails trailing their way through his fur. His own hands rested solidly on the small of her back and one in her hair as well, steadying her head. Then, Armadda placed her palms across his chest, twisting his torso and pushing him into a back-leaning position. The troll obliged, and the little human carefully crawled into his lap. Propped up on his elbows, Vol'jin could see all of her in the light of the glowing anomaly. Moonbeams at her back traced a silver outline on her figure, and her beauty in the night nearly caused the troll to gasp. His throat became tight and his loins stirred. Amadda lifted his hands and placed them upon her body; one on a hip, the other across her breast, a wild smile across her teeth.

She was _soft_ , much softer than he was expecting. Vol'jin spread his hands wide, groping as much of her as he could, rough pads of his calloused fingers finding hold on silken, yielding skin. His arms pulled her close, and her bosom met his own chest, the meager weight of her body pressing firmly against him. Armadda smoothed her hands across the fur upon his pecs, then slowly trailed her knuckles along his jugular vein, coming to rest lightly on his cheeks just behind his tusks. The troll shuddered at the slight touch and a low, nearly inaudible sigh left him without warning. She smiled, seemingly taking great amusement in his struggle to control himself. Armadda dove her fingers, nails first, into his wet hair, which tugged and sent a chill spiraling down and back up his spine. Vol'jin's natural response was to dig his own claws into her flesh.

Armadda moaned at the sharp sensation, tilting her head back and exposing her neck. If the Darkspear wanted to take control of the situation, now was the time to do so. He raised a hand to her head and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her further. Vol'jin could feel her body quake as her back arched. Carefully, he slid his tusks across her shoulders and gently grazed her neck with his canine teeth. Armadda purred, need clearly growing in her voice. Again, he let his teeth trail their way across her silken skin and placed a soft kiss just below her jaw.

" _Vol'jin_...", she whimpered. The troll's lips curled into a devilish smile. She was easy to tease this way and there was very little the human could do about it. He was bigger, he was stronger, and with every moment that passed she submitted further to desire. She was all _his_ now. With a sudden jolt forward, Vol'jin gave her what she wanted. He bit firmly into her neck, sealed with a vicious snarl. Armadda, hands still situated in his hair, yanked hard as she cried out, swearing in Orcish. Her breath drew heavy on his ears, her voice ringing inside his skull, and Vol'jin's body blazed with pleasure. He released her, dragging the flat of his tongue across the bite, and bellowed deeply into her ears.

" _Vol'jin!",_ she repeated, troll leaned back a bit, and Armadda's head came forward, resting her forehead on his. Her breathing was erratic and peppered with quiet, pitiful whines.

"Little one...", he whispered, gathering himself. "...it be time.". Vol'jin gently wrapped his hand across the bite on her neck, his thumb kept her jaw steady, and he forced her to look him in the eyes. "I gonna make ya feel it. Da _heat_ ya be stirrin' in _me_.". Armadda's eyes shone brightly in the dark, and she braced herself on his chest. A gentle, eager smile appeared across her face.

"Don't hold back.", she dared. _ Vol'jin grinned coolly, sliding his hand from her hip to her rear, lifting her into place above his pelvis. He ran his tongue along the edge of a tusk. Though he was enjoying himself, the troll did begin to worry. His bedmates in the past had all, naturally, been troll women, some of whom were nearly double Armadda's size. His length, girth and fervor were little challenge for one of his kind, but a human, small even by their standards? Still, she had challenged him, and Vol'jin decided he would trust Armadda to know what she was doing. With one hand he collected his manhood, resting the tip on the opening of her body. It was warm and inviting and she sighed dreamily at his touch. It was an encouraging start. Slowly, gently he allowed himself further inside.

She squirmed ontop of him, Armadda's nails digging into Vol'jin's skin as his erection inched deeper. She was trying to contain herself, but hot moans and breathy squeaks clawed their way from her throat like they had sprung their cage and fled. The sound filled the troll's ears, the warmth of her body enveloping him, and the serenity of her soul easing his mind. A muscle inside her suddenly contracted, gripping the head of his member and wrenching a ferocious grunt of pleasure from his chest. He pushed forcefully on her back, hugging her body to his. Armadda layed her head upon his chest, ringing her arms around his neck, fists balled tightly in his hair. With both hands upon her rear, Vol'jin gave a sharp, insistent thrust. Her erotic hissing got lost in his fur, crying out his name for a third time.

Her body grew familiar with his presence inside her, and soon Vol'jin's movements were far more smooth. Though he was sure he could not fit the entirety of his length inside of her, he was still amazed at how much Armadda had taken already. He pulled her head back by her hair, experimenting with a little more force in his movements. He could tell, even in the darkness, her face was bright red. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes we half-lidded. She was greatly enjoying him and it enlivened him, inviting him to press further. He pressed deeper with each trust, strong and steady. She kept his gaze, the stars reflecting in her eyes. Armadda cupped his face along his jaw, pulling forward on his tusks, bringing his face to hers.

Vol'jin met her with a fierce kiss. Forceful, and maybe a bit needy, and he hummed gladly. It was apparent to him that she had been wanting this for a while, and as he continued to pick up speed, his hips pushing and gyrating almost on their own, he found that this was just what he was wanting too. Armadda knew how to test him, how to push him, and it frustrated the troll endlessly. She was a challenge and a puzzle, and this whole time she had been stimulating his brain. It was only a matter of time before their hearts and bodies connected, and the sheer inevitability of it would have angered Vol'jin in any other situation. But with the heat in his body, the peace in his soul and the ease in his mind, he could not bring himself to feel anything other than pleased. He knew that, come morning, he would return to fretting and scheming, but tonight, all that mattered was her.

He growled, low and menacingly. Armadda shivered, her moans and sighs becoming louder as he thrusted harder, faster. She was now fully accessible, and the proud Shadow Hunter was through being on bottom. _ Without warning, Vol'jin toppled Armadda off him, and she landed on hands and knees in the water with a flailing splash. He knelt behind her, re-positioning himself within her body, a yelp of surprise came from her as he re-entered. He wrapped his massive hand around her bottom jaw, his outside finger pressing into her throat, pulling back and arching her body. His other hand held her hip tightly, pressing her into his pelvis as he thrusted forward. He leaned forward, snaking his tusks over her shoulder and snarling into her ear.

"Ya like dis?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. He was ready to hear Armadda admit it. When his answer did not come, he thrust in harder, spanking her with his free hand. He asked again.

"Woman, tell me; do ya like dis?"

"Ah-! Yes!", she wailed. "M-more!". Vol'jin refused to be taken off-guard. Instead, he obeyed without question. He leaned back, kneeling at full height, and rammed his pelvis into her hips, as far and hard as his cock could go, keeping grip on her neck. She bayed loudly, her voice piercing the night. He repeated the action, and then again, cramming himself into her body, clawing forth every painful, pleasurable sound imaginable. The water around them sloshed and waved violently with his action, little blue specks going into a frenzy. And then he stopped. After a moment of catching her breath, Armadda turned her head back to look at him. He raised a brow to her, expectantly.

"Vol'jin...", her face was a mixture of emotion. "Vol'jin, _please_.". The troll grunted contently, a wild grin across his tusks.

"My lady, ya only have ta ask.", he said. She whimpered, stammering for a moment, still lost in ecstasy, it was difficult for her formulate coherent sentences.

"Vol'jin! Don't stop.", she whined. "I need you. _Please_."

"What do ya need me ta do?". He slowly began to withdraw himself from her, teasing her maliciously.

"Ah-! Please. P-please keep matin' me! _Please_ fuck me like that more! _Vol'jin_!". She was becoming more insistent, looking for the right words to say. Vol'jin chuckled.

"Oh, dis?". The Darkspear pressed forward into her, his pelvis meeting her rear.

"Ah! Yes!", she cried. Vol'jin could see her arms beginning to shake. A few more violent thrusts would send her crashing into the water. Instead, Vol'jin removed his hand from her throat and placed it across her chest. He lifted her up into his lap, still facing away from him. He rocked her, cramming his erection into her with fervent passion. He positioned his tusks back over her shoulders, holding her firm with his teeth on her neck - in the same spot he had bitten her when they had sparred. His breathing was growing eratic, and her voice rang in his ears like a clarion bell. They were close to the end. Vol'jin dug his nails into Armadda's soft flesh, and she returned the favor, gripping at his arms around her. With a final few amorous thrusts, Armadda seized around his shaft and Vol'jin released his seed into her with a victorious roar.

* The troll panted heavily on the little human, who leaned back against him, quaking with satisfaction and strain. Vol'jin removed himself from her body, and layed her gently into the water beside him. He drifted close, his arms lightly blanketing her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were awash with happiness. She was grinning at him, his delight must have been clear on his face. After a short break the troll stood and plucked the small woman from the shallows. He carried her in his arms down the beach. Armadda tried to struggle, but she had no energy left, and Vol'jin was determined to hold her.

"Ach - no, this is embarrasin'". She whined, pitifully.

"Dere be no one ta see ya but me."

"Yeah, you're th' _problem_.". Vol'jin chuckled. He ascended the wooden stairs back into the cabin and layed his little mate upon the mattress in his designated bedroom. Armadda yawned and splayed out on the bed, her tiredness had begun to overtake her. Vol'jin, seeing his woman spread out before him, briefly considered having another go at her, but instead decided to wait until morning. He covered her in a light blanket and layed down beside her. Armadda wasted no time finding a comfortable position against him, burying her face in the now clean fur on his chest. She drifted away to sleep without delay.

Vol'jin was nearly lost to slumber as well, but his final thoughts closing on the evening traced back over the days they had grown together; their first meeting, their bridging of trust and their mutual adoration for one another. She was everything he thought she would be - and more. In the coming days, as turmoil and war were brought upon the Horde, Vol'jin knew that, whatever happened, she would be there beside him. To destroy and to build with him, to support him and to love him.


End file.
